


Heart Strings

by JustSkulkingAround



Category: CountryHumans, Geography (Anthropomorphic)
Genre: M/M, RusAme, Soulmates, an adventure, but this is with a twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 21,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29097714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSkulkingAround/pseuds/JustSkulkingAround
Summary: America finds himself in the middle of a huge problem.Not only is his (illegal) soulmate now his survival partner, but Alaska has also come along for the ride. Countries of a time long past have returned and now, America must learn how to survive, and find a way to get out of this mess.
Relationships: Russia/United States (Anthropomorphic)
Kudos: 30





	1. Visions and Other Things America doesn't Like

America sighs.

"Do I seriously have to bring Alaska with me to the World meeting in Russia?" America mumbles, rubbing his face.

Normally, this wouldn't be such a big deal, but the weird emotions swirling in the back of his mind keep distracting him. Intoxicating fear and worry, which had been getting more intense as the days go on. He didn't even know why. He also gets these strange visions of someone crumbling.

America had been trying his best to shove this stuff back to think. After all, people like him weren't supposed to have those. He'd always figured he would be able to outlive it, but the strange connection in the back of his mind never left.

'Soulmates.'

America shivers.

Personifications don't have soulmates. At least, they weren't supposed to. If a personification does have a soulmate, the soulmate would be a mortal soul that would perish and leave the country feeling empty or weak. But America has waited decades for this connection, his symptoms, to fade. They never did.

Honestly, America doesn't want to know who he's connected to. He doesn't want anything to do with this soulmate business. He had heard of the 'treatments' given to the countries who had soulmates.

America shakes his head.

'I need to get back to work,' he scolds himself.

"Daddy?" 

America sighs and turns around. He sees Alaska standing in the doorway with a nervous look.

"What is it, kiddo?"

"I had a bad dream. Can I sit in here with you?"

"Sure. Just don't make too much noise, okay?"

"Okay! Oh, sorry. Okay."

America smiles good-naturedly and turns back to the paperwork he had to complete for the meeting. He forces himself to read through a few pages of it but soon finds himself rereading the same few sentences, but not processing the words. He groans.

'God d*** it.'

America looks away and hears Alaska fidgeting with something from his desk. He looks up and sees just how upset Alaska had become. His face softens and drops his pen.

"Lask, is there something bothering you kiddo?"

"Uhmmm," Alaska stalls, "not really?"

America gives her a look of disbelief and Alaska huffs.

"Fine, maybe a little thing is bothering me..."

"Well?"

"...you remember how New York got visions of the burning buildings?"

America finds himself looking back, and visions of New York's nervous crying flash in his mind.

He pushes the memories back.

"Yes," America says, and his heart drops, "...why?"

"I've been seeing stuff kinda like that, where it's the same thing again and again and... it's scaring me."

"What do you see?" America questions, struggling to keep his voice steady.

"I don't really know. Mostly, it's us and someone else running through a snowstorm, and it was so cold, but we couldn't stop to warm up because something was chasing us out there," Alaska reluctantly admits, playing with a strand of her hair.

America hums in thought. 

'What could that mean?'

'At least it isn't an explosion.'

"Who was with us?" America asks curiously.

"I don't know. But they were trying to help."

America gets lost in thought, completely forgetting about the paperwork sitting behind him on the desk.

'Huh. At least then we'll have an ally. But why are we running through a snowstorm? And who would be chasing us?'

America tries his best to shake off the sinking feeling. 

'We don't even know if this is anything more than a reoccurring nightmare,' America reasons.

Still, a nervous feeling plants itself in the pit of his stomach. Though, he can't dwell on it long. His phone begins ringing. America spins around and nearly falls out of his chair. He grabs the desk to steady himself and knocks a few papers over.

America throws open the desk drawers, trying to find his phone before the call went to voicemail. 

"Hello?"

"Is this America?" asks a vaguely familiar voice.

'Sounds like the commie.'

"Yeah. This is he. What's up?"

"Hello. This is Russia. I know we have not had much contact," Russia says, talking quickly, "but my father needs help."

'Father? Soviet? Why me? And what's going on? Soviet hasn't had control of anything for a long time.'

"Okay," America replies, "and what does this have to do with me?"

"Please," Russia pleads, "he's crumbling." 

America freezes.

"It started when the Soviet Union crumbled but has refused treatment or help. I don't know how you can help, but I don't want him to die. Everyone else has refused."

America didn't expect the news to hit him so hard. a quick intake of breath has his head spinning.

'I thought countries that crumble stick around!'

'He's dying?'

'I don't like him!'

'Why do I care?'

'Russia is pleading with me.'

'I don't want him to die. He was my first real competitor as a superpower. He doesn't deserve to die like that.'

America's hand begins rapidly tapping the wood of the desk. 

"What do you need me to do?" America asks seriously.

Russia lets out a weak laugh that plucks at America's heartstrings. America also faintly registers the relief that replaces some of the worry that had grown to invade his own emotions. 

"I need you to get the soonest possible plan to the airport designated for the World Meeting incoming flights," Russia says quietly, and America can hear desperate hope in his tone.

"You got it. Is it okay if I bring a munchkin along with me?"

"'Munchkin'?" Russia repeats.

"I'm looking after a kid right now. Can I bring her with me?"

"This is the same extra you asked to bring to the World Meeting?"

"Yes."

"Okay. That is fine. Thank you." 

Before America could respond, Russia hangs up the phone. America pulls the phone away from his face and stares skeptically at the device before he shrugs and tosses it down on the bed.

"Get your bag packed kiddo. We're going to Russia a little early."

"Really?!"

"Yes, emergency business. Come on now. Go start packing, okay?"

Alaska nods and rushes out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind her.


	2. America Absolutely Does NOT Have a Crush on Russia(But Only if you Squint)

The plane ride, though uneventful, left America with his thoughts a little longer than he would've liked. America waits with Alaska in the airport, occasionally trying to make small talk with those around him, but the only result he gets is strange looks and people trying to get away from him.

'No one smiles here. Weird.'

'Where's Russia?'

America takes Alaska's hand, and she relents. America continues to scan the crowds until a familiar hat and white hair catches his eye. America smiles and waves. Russia scowls a little and walks over, towering over most of the others in the crowd.

"Hi!" America blurts out with a grin.

'F***, didn't mean to be that loud.'

'D***. Why does he have to be so cute up close?'

"Don't smile like that," Russia says gruffly, not looking directly at him.

"What?" America asks, bewildered.

"It is not a custom here," Russia explains quietly.

"Are you Mr. Russia?" Alaska interjects excitedly.

Russia looks down at Alaska and smiles slightly. He crouches down to Alaska's level before speaking again. The care in the action makes America's heart flutter a little.

America shakes it off.

"Yes. And you must be the child that America spoke of."

"Yup! My name's Alaska," Alaska chirps. 

Russia smiles gently before standing with a neutral expression. Russia turns back to America.

"Follow me," Russia says, "we will be taking the train. It is the fastest way to get to my home."

America nods and nudges Alaska forward. The walk to the train station is brisk and cold, and soon, they sit together in a train carriage devoid of anyone but them. 

America nervously fidgets with the tag on his suitcase and Alaska babbles about whatever comes to mind. In the back of his head, he feels the alien emotions grow stronger. Fear, trepidation, and a spark of hope.

'What's going on with that?' America thinks, frustrated.

He also felt embarrassed. He tries to keep his emotions under wraps as best as he can, but he feels his shame shine through on his face.

'Why did I have to make a fool of myself in front of Russia?' 

He finds himself nervously messing with his hair and forces his hand back into his lap.

'No.'

His leg begins bouncing, and he leans over as if to avoid the attention. Russia gives him a curious look, and America looks away.

'Am I being too annoying?' America thinks to himself.

'Bouncing frogs,' his mind replies.

America internally shrugs. Better topic than analyzing his own actions, he decides. He stares out the window, imagining the bitter wind. Before he knew it, Russia begins standing up, and America copies, coaxing Alaska to gather her things.

Russia drives the rest of the way to a large, but older looking home. 

'It looks lived in,' America decides.

Russia pushes them inside, which America feels almost grateful for with the cold wind outside. Alaska runs off to talk with Belarus and Ukraine, who seem to take a liking to her. America drops off his luggage in the front room with his shoes, not sure where else to put it, and reminds Alaska to take off her shoes.

"Now show me where the old commie is anyway," America says, facing Russia.

"What are you going to do to help him?" Russia asks.

"Dude, you asked me to be here," America defends, "don't turn this on me. Besides, I've got a few tricks."

Russia scowls and America smirks.

'You'll see, Ruski.'

Russia grumbles something under his breath that sounded like he was cursing. Then, Russia sighs. His shoulders fall a little and the scowl he had been wearing relaxes.

"I am sorry for being so rude," Russia mumbles, "I am worried and have taken it out on you."

"You're all good," America says, waving off the apology with a smile, "now where is that commie?"

Russia wordlessly leads him to the room close to the back of the home. Russia stops in front of a heavy wooden door and takes a heavy breath. America feels his own worry rise in tandem with the worry invading his mind, making his head spin a little. Russia suddenly leans against the nearby wall, looking a little dizzy as well. 

Russia shakes it off and gives America a look America can't quite read.

"He is... not himself," Russia reluctantly admits, "I have told him you were coming but he did not take it well."

Images of an angry argument flash in America's mind. He shakes it off, set on ignoring the confusion growing in his chest.

Russia slowly opens the door.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"May we come in?"

"...yes,"

'His voice sounds weak. How bad is this?'

America pokes his head around the doorframe, and seeing Soviet look frail and covered in cracked, on the verge of crumbling apart is a far cry from the strong enemy he had once completed with.

America walks up beside the bed, and Soviet stares back at him, his eye looking strikingly lucid.

"What are you doing here?" Soviet asks, but his tone lacks the hostility America expects, instead only holding pain and exhaustion.

"I am here to help," America explains, cracking his knuckles.

"There is not much to do," Soviet says, closing his eye, "You can kill me."

"Nah," America says, furrowing his brow in concentration, trying to keep his eyes off of Russia, "I've got a much better idea."

Soviet looks up at him, confused.

"What could you possibly do?"

America smirks, channeling a little flare of magic to his eyes, making them flash a light blue. Soviet eye widens. America holds back a loud laugh.

"I told you I had a better idea," America snarks before turning to Russia, "If I fall over, just let me sleep it off. I'll be fine."

"Why are you doing this?" Soviet asks.

'I can't say no to Russia.'

America doesn't verbally answer, instead, he pulls his magic forward, and his heart skips a beat. He gets tunnel vision as he channels as much as he can into a healing blanket. He is careful to surround Soviet. He mutely notices shock and overpowering hope invade his emotions. He narrows his eyes and ignores how the pulling in his chest gets tighter.

The cracks begin to seal themselves. Soviet's hands, which had nearly already dissolved, start reforming at an astonishing rate. 

A dizzy spell hits America, but he shakes it off.

'I told Russia I would help. I won't let him down.'

The growing pressure in his chest begins to crush him, making it hard to breathe. America stops, taking a step back and stumbling a little, gasping. He looks around to see Soviet staring at his hands in unadulterated shock and Russia staring at him, a look of wonder on his face. America looks away, his face growing warm.

America basks in the fluttery feelings it gave him and resists the urge to hide his face in his hands.

America looks back up at Russia, who starts staring at Soviet with a few at the edges of his eyes. Soviet carefully steps up from his chair, looking stunned. Russia slowly walks forward.

"Papa?" Russia asks.

Soviet wordlessly lifts Russia up in a bear hug, and Russia laughs breathlessly.

The nagging fear that had made its home in the recesses of America's mind just evaporates, as if it had never existed. America breathes a heavy sigh of relief. He wasn't sure why it had suddenly been elevated, but he'd take it.

Soviet let Russia back the floor before walking confidently to the door, his footsteps loud and steady against the wood floor. Then, he pauses. Soviet looks over his shoulder and America forces himself to meet Soviet's gaze.

"I owe you," Soviet grumbles, but his eye shows the depth of his gratitude.

Then, Soviet walks out, closing the door behind him. 

Russia turns to America, a huge, goofy grin on his face that makes America's face grow warm. Then Russia latches onto America, muttering "thank you"s in both English and Russian. America laughs and hugs him right back. His system is flooded with relief that isn't his own.

"You did it!" Russia exclaims in disbelief and excitement, "he's okay."

"Hey, you asked for help, didn't you?" America jokes with a smile. 

Russia laughs breathlessly. America sighs and his vision starts to go dark.

"I may have overdone it," America mutters.

The world goes dark, and America can faintly hear Russia shout in panic.


	3. No! This Can't Be Happening

America wakes up in an unfamiliar room. He sits up a little and rubs his head. He looks around and sees that he's laying on a large bed in an unfamiliar room. He looks around a little more and sees Russia sleeping next to the bed, tucked against the wall and the bed frame, with his hat tucked over his face. 

America smiles and winces at the growing headache. 

'Yup. I definitely overdid it.'

America looks at Russia before scanning the room. Most of the colors are pretty plain. There is a desk in the corner covered in papers and pictures. America moves to stand up, and he hears Russia groan. America spins around nervously and relaxes when Russia settles back down. America turns back to the desk and flips through the pictures. 

It's a bunch of drawings, most of which are lifelike sketches with a scrawl of Russia's name at the bottom in Cyrillic. Some of them are pinned to the wall, and others are on the backs of informational pamphlets from the UN meetings scattered across the desk. America admires them and is very careful not to crumple or crease any of the papers.

America places them down and turns around to see Russia standing behind him. America yelps. Russia looks a little annoyed, and his face is bright red. America begins pulling at his fingers and he looks away, his face and ears grow uncomfortably warm.

"Sorry," America mumbles.

Russia sighs.

"It's okay," Russia says, "it's not that good anyway."

"Are you kidding?" America asks, "these are awesome! I mean, I can't draw for s***, but these are amazing!"

Russia looks away and mutters something under his breath, and America feels embarrassment in the back of his mind. America writes it off as his own and offers an embarrassed smile. 

Russia smiles before turning to America and asking, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good," America says with a smile, ignoring the empty pit in his chest from the missing magic, "I'm just tired."

Russia smiles and puts a hand on America's shoulder. 

America's eyes go wide and he tenses a little out of surprise before a huge grin takes over his expression. Russia chuckles.

"Well, you're in a good mood," Russia teases.

America beams, and begins bouncing, trying to keep from waving his hands about. He looks back up to see Russia staring off into the distance, a curious look on his face, but his eyes shine with glee. 

America giggles. He feels his heart swell with happiness that just floods into him.

Russia pulls his hand away and gives America a curious look. Russia opens his mouth as if to say something when someone comes bursting into the room.

"Daddy!" Alaska shouts, crashing into America, nearly knocking them both to the ground. 

"Heya kiddo!" America replies, ruffling Alaska's hair, "what's up?"

"I was worried about you! I called Massy, and he said you were a dumba**, but that you would be fine."

America rolls his eyes with a scoff. Then, he scoops Alaska off the ground and spins her around. Alaska laughs and leans back, arms in the air. America chuckles before carefully letting her get back to her feet.

"Have you been having a good time here?" America asks.

"Yeah! Everyone here is very nice and the tea is very sweet and it's cold outside. You missed the big snowball fight!" Alaska exclaims, throwing her hands into the air, "Ms. Belarus is very good with snowballs, but Mr. Ukraine makes the best snow forts! And Mr. Soviet was throwing me high up like you do into snow piles and it's so much fun!"

America laughs.

"Sounds like you've been having fun," America comments.

Then, America looks up to gauge Russia's reaction.

Russia seems to stare past them, and America's mind is suddenly filled with fond memories of snowy mornings and laughter. Huge snowball fights. Memories that America knows aren't his own.

He faintly registers Alaska telling more stories about her first night here, but ultimately, America finds himself completely lost in memories that aren't his own. Eventually, the images fade, and America zones back into the real world as Russia looks around with a fond smile. 

'What was that?'

'Snowball fights are fun.'

'No! Stop thinking about that! Why was I remembering something that didn't happen?'

'At least, it didn't happen to me...'

'I swear to God, if this has something to do with the soulmates thing, I'm going to kick something.'

"America?" Russia calls.

America snaps back to reality and sees Alaska had left and Russia looks at him, a concerned look on his face. America gets an idea. He pulls and searches for the foreign emotions, and finds that same kind of concern is radiating from the connection. He focuses on it.

"I'm fine. I just spaced out a little," America says with a dismissive wave and a smile.

As soon as he responds, he sees Russia's face fall to a small smile, and the concern turns to relief and contented happiness.

America freezes.

'S***.'

America desperately looks to the door, and his thoughts spin too fast for him to recognize them.

"America?" Russia asks.

"I uhh..." America starts, as panic sets in, "I need to use the restroom."

"It's the second door on the right, near the end of the hallway. Are you okay?" Russia asks, looking a little panicked himself.

"Yeah. I'll be fine?" America says, trying to say it like a statement, but he is much more focused on leaving the room.

America rushes out and into the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it. He falls back, sitting on the edge of the bath.

"S***. S***. F***. S***," America mutters, running his hands through his hair and bouncing his leg, trying desperately to calm his nerves. 

His mind is swimming with thoughts and they swirl around in what feels like a whirlwind of chaos. He tries to read through them, trying to organize any of it and calm himself down. Tears trace his cheeks and he clenches his eyes shut.

'There is no f***ing way!'

'He's my soulmate?!'

'I mean, he's cute.'

'But he's also a f***ing country!'

'No. No. Nononononono.'

The tales of the 'treatments' for those kinds of bonds rings in his mind. UK used to tell stories about them as if they were just normal parts of life to him and Canada when they were younger. The stories often gave America nightmares. 

Images of being strapped to a chair and electrocuted and beat flit past his mind's eye, and he blinks away the tears. 

'I should've known!'

'The fact that it never went away.'

'What else could it have been?'

'But it's been outlawed since the Roman Empire began to fall apart!'

America tries desperately to swallow back his impending meltdown.

'No!'

"I'll be okay," America mutters, biting his lip, "I'll just-I'll-I..."

America's breathing begins to pick up speed and he holds back the urge to scream. He grips his hair. He ends up on the bathroom floor and he kicks the floor. He presses his back against the wall and tries to think with his foggy, crowded mind.

'I can't tell him.'

'I can't tell anyone.'

He whines and covers his mouth, biting his knuckle.

'This is a death sentence.'

He tucks his face into his knees and tries to calm his breathing. 

'Does Russia know?!'

'Do I just ignore him now?'

'But I don't want to upset him.'

Then he hears knocking on the door. His head snaps up and he scrubs the tears from his face.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

America takes a shuttering breath. 

"Yes, sweetie. I'm fine," He replies, trying to make his tone believable.

'Okay. Just have to calm down.'

"Okay," Alaska says, "you've just been gone for a while."

America hums and tried to pull himself together enough to walk out the door. He buries his worries as far as he can, swallowing the feelings away. He also reaches for the link again, though he is terrified of it, it's the only thing he can focus on. Worry and concern flow through it. 

'S***. He probably felt all of that. Or at least knew about it.'

America shakily stands up and brushes himself off. He fights back the rest of his tears before they escape and stares into the mirror. His eyes are red, and his cheeks shiny. He sniffles and splashes cold water over his face.

He takes another deep breath before he opens the door to see Alaska standing outside of it.

"Dad?" Alaska asks, worried.

"Yeah?"

"Were you... are you feeling okay?"

America bites his tongue before his thoughts come spilling out.

"I'm fine," America replies quietly, forcing a smile.

Alaska sighs.

"Dad, I know when you're lying," Alaska says softly, "What's wrong?"

America smiles sadly.

"I'm not... it's nothing you gotta worry about, okay?"

"But I am worried," Alaska insists, "all of us worry."

"I am not dumping my problems onto my kids," America says firmly, crossing his arms.

"But you always tell us to talk about the things that bother us!"

"That's different."

"How?!"

America flinches and Alaska sniffles.

"Daddy, I don't want to see you upset," she whines, looking away.

America's heart clenches.

"I know, kiddo. I know. I'll be okay," America says, kneeling down and offers a smile. 

Alaska looks up and then lunges forward, clinging to America. America chuckles and stands up, holding her close.

"I can only protect you from so much, and I am not going to have you worrying about me. That's my job," America mumbles.

"I love you," Alaska says.

"I love you too, kiddo," America replies, putting Alaska down. 

Alaska smiles and wipes her face before grabbing his hand and dragging him into the main room.

'I'm okay,' he thinks, trying to convince himself.

'For now.' 

America ignores the last thought.

America walks in and sees Russia sitting nervously on the couch, looking down. 

"Hi," America says meekly. 

Russia's head whips up, and a small smile grows on his face. After a moment of quiet, Russia looks away and a flustered feeling manifests at the edge of America's mind.

"We have the World Meeting tomorrow, so if you would like to stay with m-us until then..." Russia trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. 

America sees Alaska look up with puppy-eyes. Conflicted emotions and messy thoughts don't allow him for very good decision making.

"Okay," America blurts out and immediately regrets it.

'What am I getting myself into?'


	4. Stupid Rumors of Stupid Things

'Why did I agree to this?'

America walks into the living room and sits back on the couch and Russia sits down next to him. 

'He's so close to me. Oh my God. Oh my God!.'

Russia laughs and butterflies fill America's chest and stomach. He begins bouncing his legs and fiddling with his hands. He looks away, trying to ignore just how close Russia is. He moves his eyes to focus on his hands, only to see them sparking a little. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his chest. 

The magic fades, and his heart aches a little.

'Damn it,' America thinks, running a hand through his hair, 'I have to calm down. My magic needs to rest.'

"Are you okay?" Russia says, looking concerned.

America looks away and feels his face grow warm.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Is something wrong?" America replies.

"You're quiet," Russia comments. 

America looks away and tries to ignore the heat in his face. Russia puts a hand on America's shoulder and America pulls away. Russia pulls back, looking confused and a little hurt. 

America sees this and panics.

'I- How do I explain this to you?'

'I don't want to make you upset.'

'But I don't know what I can say.'

'Do I say anything?'

"It's nothing!" America insists his voice cracks.

Then, America hears someone laughing. 

He looks up to see Ukraine cackling in the doorway. He can also see Belarus giggling while showing Alaska a few crafts at the table. His face burns and he looks away, mortified. 

"Ukraine!" Russia says, "Quiet!"

Ukraine starts laughing harder. America curls up a little.

'Am I that obvious?'

'Oh god, why did I agree to stay?'

'Russia is attractive,' his mind answers.

'Very pretty...'

'Want to hug.'

'But countries having countries as soulmates is wrong!'

'I can't tell him. If he doesn't know, it won't be his fault. He won't need the treatments.'

"America?" Russia asks.

"Huh? What?" 

"I was asking if you wanted something to eat," Russia says, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh. Uh, sure."

Russia stands up and America sighs. He yawns.

Then he hears talking in the kitchen.

"Papa, can we have America and Alaska as guests?" Russia asks, his voice muffled by the walls.

"They will be your guests," Soviet replies in a warning tone.

Russia walks back in soon after, a grin on his face, and he hands America a small bowl. America openly accepts it.

"We do not have much right now," Russia says, looking a little embarrassed, "Papa is making borsch, so we will have dinner, but... I thought we had more. Kazakistan must have eaten some."

America smiles brightly.

"Thank you!" America chirps.

America turns his focus to the bowl and sees Russia quickly walk away, covering his face. America shrugs a little and nibbles on the bread in the bowl. It's heavy, but America isn't about to complain. 

"Dad!" Alaska says gleefully before she leans over his shoulder on the arm of the couch beside him, "wait, you have bread. Can I have some?"

America laughs quietly and rips off a piece and hands it to Alaska. Alaska happily hops onto the couch beside him and bounces on the cushions, happily munching on the snack.

America smiles, watching Alaska in his periphery. 

Then his phone begins to ring. America quickly digs it out of his pocket. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, Amy. Listen, something's wrong. All the kids are okay, but New York is tellin' me that he's seeing early reports of something weird going on."

"Dix, what the h*** are you talking about?"

"There have been sightings of... me."

"Dix, you better not be f***ing with me."

"No. Not like that! Listen, you know the confederate war flag?" Dixie asks, a bit of shame behind his tone.

"Uh-huh," America replies, his tone curious.

"That's the flag New York saw reports of. There's also mutterin' about other countries walking around that shouldn't exist."

America's heart sinks.

"Where did he see it?"

"There was a strange report coming in from a departing flight out of JFK."

America goes quiet.

"S***," America eventually muttered, bouncing his leg and running a hand through his hair, "that's not good at all."

"I know, Amy," Dixie says, his tone painted with worry, "everyone is in their region homes right now, and are hunkering down. Cali hacked into some of the airport logging computers. Apparently, our mystery man is headed to Estonia. We aren't sure why."

America sighs and pinches his nose. 

"Okay. Thank you." 

"No problem, ya shrimp."

"Don't call me that."

"I don't think I will," Dixie says, a smirk audible in his voice.

America huffs and tries to ignore the growing dread. He can't, with his nerves already frayed from earlier that day. Then he sees Alaska get up and wander into the kitchen. America sighs.

"I'll talk to you later," America says.

"Alright. Love you!" Dixie exclaims, his tone overly happy and teasing.

"I love you too," America says with a tired chuckle, "Bye."

"Bye."

America hangs up and pockets his phone, putting his head into his hands. 

'Wait. Isn't Estonia close to Russia?'

America shakes off the thought and he lets out a shaky sigh. He stands up to find Alaska and sees her standing on a stool in the kitchen, an oversized apron over her clothes and her curly hair tied back into a ponytail.

Soviet is standing beside her, his tone far softer and kinder than America could've ever imagined, teaching her how to cut up and prepare a pile of beets for a large pot sitting on the stove. 

Soviet seemed to pointed ignore America's presence, and honestly, America decided it was probably better that way.

After deciding that Alaska is taken care of, America turns back and walks back into Russia's bedroom. Normally he wouldn't trust most other countries with his kids, but Soviet had proven himself a good secret keeper when it came to the existence of his states, and America himself is too distracted to be suspicious.

America sits back on Russia's bed and stares off into a, now blurred, vision of the wall, his eyes unfocused.

'Why the hell is the Confederate Battle Flag personified?'

'No citizens can take a flag that doesn't have a personification.'

'This is bad. Really bad.'

'Russia...'

'No!' America shakes his head, trying to restore his train of thought.

'I hope Dixie keeps the states out of trouble.'

'But Dixie's still here, why is another one of his old flags is back?'

His heart drops.

'"A different ideal attached to a flag can bring them back to a different representation," UN had explained.'

The words echo in his mind, with UN's expression imprinted in his mind. The question had been stupid really. He was honestly just curious, and the answer came with a chiding remark, but he never thought it would become important.

'Oh no.'


	5. This is a S***storm

The door flies open and America barely notices. America looks up a little and sees Russia look at him, and he absentmindedly notices a strange look on Russia's face. He looked unsure and relieved. 

The thoughts force themselves to America's tongue before he can stop them.

"Do you ever get those weird feelings in the back of your mind that aren't yours?" America blurts out. 

America slaps his hands over his mouth and stares up at Russia's equally shocked face with wide eyes. His heart pounds against his rib cage.

"Sorry. Oh my God! I shouldn't have said anything. S***. F***," America mutters. 

America's hands find their spots on either side of his head, fingers getting tangled in his hair. Panic fills his system and his breathing picks up in pace. He squints his eyes shut and gets buried in thoughts.

'I shouldn't have said that!'

'I shouldn't've'

'Oh God.'

'No saying that.'

'Too late'

'Secret.'

'Not a secret anymore.'

'S***. Wait. F***. NOO!'

'Why does he look like that?'

'He doesn't look confused.'

'S***!'

'Nononononononononono.'

America knows that Russia is still there on some level, but still hears the door close. He looks up, tears in his eyes, to see a concerned Russia standing near the door, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous, but not unsure, look on his face.

'No! I don't wanna..'

'I don't want to do this to him.'

'I don't know how to make it stop.'

"America?"

America stiffens and forces himself to meet Russia's eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" America sputters, trying to remember how to breathe, "it's nothing, I promise."

"Are you sure? You're-"

"I'm just being weird!" America interjects, forcing a wide grin and trying to give a convincing laugh, "it's stupid anyway."

Russia stares at him for a moment, looking very confused and slightly hurt.

'No'

'I didn't wanna hurt feelings.'

'Oh no!'

'He's sad.'

'No! Don't be sad!'

"It's fine!" America exclaims, wincing at his volume, "please. It's nothing. I just- Please don't get upset."

Russia shakes his head, the strange expression not leaving his features.

"Why are you in here anyway?" America asks, hoping desperately to change the subject.

"I was looking for you," Russia replies honestly, his cheeks turning a little red, "you looked upset. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

America's face grows warm.

'You care?'

'Came to check on me?'

'You came to check on ME?'

"Yeah, I... I'm okay," America bluffs, offering a strained smile.

Russia silently replies with a look of doubt. America drops the smile and sighs shakily.

'How much can I explain?'

'No.'

'Can't!'

'Have to.'

'No.'

America feels the weight on the bed shift and turns to see Russia sitting beside him, looking worried. America stares at his lap and notices motion in his peripheral vision. He tries to ignore it until a hand lands on his shoulder.

America's head jerks up to see Russia a lot closer than he had been. America immediately averts his eyes to the ground, feeling his face heat up.

They sit in silence and America slowly slinks away, mortified. 

'Dumbass.'

'Flags?'

'Why would you do that?'

'Would Russia know about the dead countries?'

'Would he know?'

'Could he know?'

'Can he know?'

"Have you heard anything about dead countries coming back?" America asks, trying to take his mind off of the burning in his face and his fidgeting. 

"What?" Russia asks, sounding completely baffled and looking a little startled.

America could feel Russia's eyes on the side of his head and he swallows back the nervous lump in his throat. 

"I've been getting reports of some old flags who were supposed to be dead and wanted to see if you knew anything about it," America replies hurridly.

America looks up to see Russia looking at him, the curiosity and slight worry in his eyes match the feelings America could identify from the link. Russia hums and removes his hand, sitting back a little. America lets out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. 

"Reports from who? And where?" Russia questions, curiosity and a little suspicion in his tone.

"A brother of mine staying back in the states."

Russia hums for a second.

"The meeting is in a few days," Russia comments, "you can tell the others."

"Yeah," America mutters, his eyes unfocused.

They sit in quiet for a moment before the moment is broken.

"What were you talking about when I first walked in?" Russia asks in an innocent tone.

America stiffens.

'S***'

'What do I say?!'

"It's nothing," America says, putting on an easygoing smile, "Don't worry about it, m'kay?"

Russia looks back with a conflicted look.

"But you said something that makes sense," Russia replies tentatively.

America's eyes go wide and the images flash before his eyes. The graphic descriptions of the 'therapies' for countries deemed too powerful for being attached to another personification.

'I can't tell him. I can't let him find out.'

'He can't know.'

'I'm sorry.'

His heart races in his chest and watches Russia carefully. Russia looks back, and America finds himself staring into his eyes. 

'He looks concerned,' America halfheartedly notes, his breath coming in huffing gasps.

Russia says something, but America doesn't register the words at first.

"What's wrong?" 

America blinks hard and takes a deep breath. The words float through his mind. 

"It isn't normal," America mumbles to himself.

"What?" Russia questions.

America feels his heart sink even further. Anger and anxiety course through his veins. He squashes the feelings as much as he can manage to, crushing them into his chest. His eyes dry and his breathing slows. He figures, sure, his chest hurts, but it's better than having a meltdown in front of Russia and embarrass himself even more.

His stomach churns and ties itself into knots, but America ignores the discomfort. He forces a laugh and smiles as wide as he convincingly could.

"I'm okay," America says to the questions in Russia's eyes, "I'm okay. And don't worry about what I said. It's fine!"

America flinches at the irritation growing in the link, but Russia manages to keep his expression neutral. 

"I know you're lying," Russia says bluntly.

"I can't tell you!" America rushes out, yelling far louder than he intended.

America turns his eyes back to the ground and Russia leans away a little, a startled look on his face.

'S***. Bad.'

'Be quiet,' he demands to himself.

"I can't tell you," America says softly, "Sorry."

Russia goes quiet and America pulls into himself. Worry replaces the irritation in the link and America almost feels relieved.

Russia sighs. 

"Okay," Russia mutters, his voice quiet, but not overly disappointed.

Then, Russia gets up and picks up what looks like an old sketchbook and a pencil off the desk. He flips to an empty page as he sits back down on the bed.

Russia begins to draw, and America stares at the pencil. Everything goes blurry, and America feels his mind wander with his gaze locked on the paper.

'Thank you.'

'You're staying.'

'I don't have to talk, right?'

America waits impatiently for Russia to start a conversation, only for it not to happen. America tentatively looks up and finds himself at a loss for words seeing Russia content, just sitting in his company. 

America relaxes a little and his mind begins wandering.

'Is the old Confederacy battle flag really personified?'

'I'm calling 'em Con.'

'But if Con is real and separate from Dixie, what else is there? Who else is there?'

'How many flags are coming back?'

'Also, why the f*** would he be leaving the US?'

America finds his surroundings warm and comfortable, even as he shivers a bit. He feels disconnected from himself, and with the emotions churning in his chest, he doesn't fight against it.

A knock on the door startles America back into his own mind. He gasps a little and his arms jerk up to his chest. He looks around, only to see that Russia had stopped drawing and was scrolling on his phone and he was just staring at a sketch of a landscape he doesn't recognize.

"Russia," Kasakstan calls from behind the door, "Soviet says to get ready for dinner."

Russia sighs and gently taps America's shoulder. America looks up and Russia smiles.

"Come on," Russia says, getting off the bed and tossing the art supplies onto his cluttered desk. 

America smiles and gets to his feet, trying to squash the butterflies in his stomach.

'I can't keep doing this. How long can I keep my mouth shut?'

'I almost ruined it.'

'I don't want the states to be targeted because I'm somehow wrong.'

'I wonder where Alaska is.'


	6. Ice is Very Stupid. Why does it have to be so Slippery?

America wanders into the kitchen and finds Alaska helping carry bowls to the table. America smiles softly, ignoring the weight in his chest.

Dinner is quiet, and America doesn't eat much, his stomach still in knots. He stares blankly into the red soup, stirring it around, his head propped up on his arm. He sighs quietly. Someone kicks his foot from under the table and he looks up, curious.

Alaska looks back at him and signs "(Are you okay?)"

"(Yes, I'm okay. Don't worry about me.)"

"What are you doing?" Belarus asks curiously, watching their hands with interest.

"Oh!" Alaska chirps, "it's American sign language."

"Huh," Russia says.

America averts his eyes and his face fills with heat. He tries to cover his face in embarrassment.

'This crush is going to be the end of me.'

America begins spooning food into his mouth to avoid embarrassing himself further. Dinner ends quickly, and Alaska insists on going outside to play out in the snow. America is more than happy to accompany her, trying to distract himself. Russia joins them soon after, and America can't bring himself to ask him to leave. 

America laughs as Alaska got him in the side of the head with a snowball. America wipes it away and hears Russia start laughing too. Amusement stems from the link and America try to scowl. The expression turned into more of a pout. Heat rushes to his cheeks, but the cold covers most of it. 

America tries to hide his lovestruck smile as best he can. He tries to wipe the grin off his face, but Russia's amusement continues to prode at his mind.

'His laugh is so pretty.'

'How could it sound so nice?'

'God, I am in so deep.'

He's jolted back into reality to Alaska shoves snow down the back of his coat freezing snow off his back.

'Cold, cold.'

'Coldcoldcoldcold!'

America manages to whack the snow out of his jacket and hears Russia laughing even harder. His cheeks burn, and America decides an impulsive decision would be the best course of action. 

America gathers snow in his gloves and rushes up to Russia. Without giving Russia a chance to do anything, he fills his hood with snow and yanks it hood over Russia's head.

Russia shouts and America cackles, quickly back-peddling out of Russia's reach. Russia yanks the hood back and rushes at America. America laughs and turns around, trying to run. Unfortunately, the snow and ice are a lot slicker than he was expecting, and Russia tackles him.

America shrieks and tumbles to the ground, faceplanting into the snow. America squirms and shakes Russia off, wresting him into the snowdrifts. Seeing Russia look completely unbothered being buried in the snow while he himself started shaking makes him even more determined to shove snow down the front of Russia's sweater.

He takes a handful and Russia manages to wriggle out of his grasp, running away, laughing like a little kid. America starts running after him, only to slip. America finds himself sliding on his stomach like a penguin. He puts his hands out, trying to stop himself, only to crash into the side of the house.

He hears Alaska laughing hysterically somewhere behind him. He scowls and tries to stand up, only to start slipping around. Trying to stay on his feet, his hands shoot out and he flails around, trying to find his balance.

It doesn't work.

"No. NO!" America exclaims as his feet shoot out from under him.

He lands hard on the ice with a grunt, shivering.

'Why did I even agree to this?'

'God d*** it. I'm stumbling around like a god d***ed southerner.'

'I should've taken New Hampshire's offer to ice skate last winter.'

America tries to pull himself up by the grooves in the outer walls of the house, but when he tries to balance, his feet slide out from under him, and he falls back. He lands hard on the ice underneath him and a bit of snow flies up around his head. He lays splayed out for a second before trying to blow the snow off his face. It doesn't work.

Glee and giddiness leak from the link and America tries to shut it off out of embarrassment. The intensity lessens a little, but there is still enough to make his face grow hot.

America props himself up and manages to get on his hands and feet. He looks up and sees Alaska giggling like a maniacal toddler and Russia's boots sticking out from a pile of snow. Russia has fallen back into the snow, laughing so hard that America wouldn't be surprised if he'd started to turn blue.

America scowls and tries to stand, and watches in horror as his legs slowly separate.

'Oh no!'

'NOT THE SPLITS!'

He manages not to do the splits completely, but he's left sitting in the middle of a patch of ice, feeling completely mortified. This feeling is not helped by the incessant laughter from both Alaska and Russia. He glares at the ice.

Then black boots appear in his vision. He looks up to see Russia standing over him, amusement bright in his eyes and the link, but his face is morphed to show concern. America quickly looks away, but when a gloved hand is offered his way, he takes it sheepishly. 

Russia helps him to his feet, but when America tries to readjust his balance, he loses his traction and squeaks, clinging to Russia.

Russia laughs again, and America can't get himself to look up. Russia's laughter quiets a bit and America feels someone poke him in the side of the cheek.

"I think it's time to go inside," Russia says, his tone playful.

America scowls and looks away. Blood rushes to his entire face, and he's sure that if his ears weren't already red, they had to be now. 

Russia walks off the ice, taking short steps, and dragging America with him. America clings to him like a young child learning to walk. Russia helps him step onto the snow and gives a playful bow as soon as America has his footing and lets go.

"A**hole!" America scolds, smacking him in the shoulder.

Russia laughs.

Russia walks in behind him, and it's only after he enters the warmth of the house that he realizes how much he's shivering. He kicks off his boots at the door and disappears into the bathroom, taking off the winter gear and trying to ring the water out of his shirt. 

It isn't working, but he wasn't about to walk around the house without a shirt. He exits, still shivering, to hang up the winter jacket. His legs shake a little while he's walking. Then he sees Russia walking over and tries to stop the shivering in vain.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks, and through the link, a spark of concern accompanies the statement.

America forces a smile and hopes his teeth aren't chattering too noticeably.

"I'm just not used to it," he forces out.

"Staying in wet clothes doesn't help," Russia comments, "Get changed."

America wrinkles his nose but doesn't argue. He changes into some pajamas, and hugs himself, rubbing his arms. He walks back out into the living room and sits in front of the large fireplace. He shivers a little.

'My back is cold.'

'But my face is so hot.'

'This is bulls***.'

Then a blanket falls on his back. America jerks a little and looks up. Russia gives him a bashful smile and sits beside him, holding two steaming cups. 

"Do you want some?"

"What is it?"

"Sbiten."

America holds out his hands, making a grabbing motion. Russia hands it over with a smile. America reaches for the link and the nice feelings come rushing in like they did before, and they make his heart feel warm. He brings the mug close to his chest and wraps his fingers around it, trying to warm up his hands.

Russia stays on his left, sitting quietly, and he hears Alaska zooming around to his right. He abandons his drink without a second thought and can feel Russia's startled jerk of emotions through the link at the clang the much makes against the floor. 

America's arm shoots out to stop Alaska from crashing. He hooks her around the waist and catches her drink before either had the chance of landing in the fireplace.

"Kiddo, you gotta be careful," he says, scolding her lightly, handing her mug back to her.

"Sorry daddy," Alaska mumbles, looking away.

He turns back to see Russia looking at him with wide eyes.

"What? You think I raised 50 kids and didn't get a 6th sense for bad decisions?" America says, crossing his arms.

Russia doesn't respond, so America reaches for the link and finds awe and more fuzzy feelings that he couldn't place a name to. His face grows warm and he looks away. The butterflies in his stomach grow in intensity, and he hides behind the rim of the mug. 

America locks his eyes on the fire and mentally keeps tabs on Alaska as she twirls around and starts blabbering about it to Kazakhstan, who does nothing to help prevent bad ideas.

America sighs. His thoughts begin to get dark again, and he winces.

'Tonight will not be fun.'


	7. The Dark isn't fun, But at Least Company Makes it Better

America tries to keep his attention split. He decides that if he can keep himself from wallowing in his thoughts for too long, he can just enjoy Russia's company and laugh at Alaska's shenanigans. 

But, good things can't last forever. 

Time flies by, and soon, America finds himself tucking a blanket around a sleeping Alaska, having passed out on the couch after, somehow, convincing Soviet to run around with her on his shoulders.

America smiles and kisses her forehead.

"How do you keep up with that?" Russia asks his tone one of curiosity.

America shrugs.

"Just kinda had to," America says, running a hand through his hair.

Russia laughs a little. 

America settles on the couch and Alaska cuddles into one of the cushions, mumbling something in her sleep. She leans against the arm of the sofa and sleeps on, unaware of her surroundings completely. Russia sits down on the other end of the couch and America looks away. 

'Would I be able to get away with leaning on him?'

'Maybe not.'

'I could try..?'

'But I don't want to scare him away.'

'But I want to....'

America slowly creeps his way over to Russia. Russia gives him a curious look but doesn't ask him to stop. America sits stiffly at Russia's side, his shoulders tense. Though he keeps enough distance to try to avoid making Russia uncomfortable, he still wants to get closer.

'It's now or never.'

'I want to so bad.'

'But what if he pushes me off?'

'But I want toooooo.'

'But I'm just becoming his friend. I don't want to ruin this.'

Then, as much as he wanted to ignore them, unwanted thoughts begin to flit through his mind. 

'Want a hug.'

'But don't bond too much.'

'Soulmates between countries are punished.'

'Bad.'

'Illegal.'

'Does he know?'

'He has to now.'

'I shouldn't've said anything.'

'Too late now.'

The pain that he had forced into his chest comes rushing back, and he winces. The clashing rage and fear swirl in his head and he tries not to shrink away.

'Don't want Russia to know.'

'But doesn't he already? The link?'

'Maybe he doesn't!'

'But-'

A hand wraps around his shoulder, and he looks up sharply. He meets Russia's eyes, but can't decipher the emotions in his eyes. He reaches for the link to see a strange mix of worry, fear, apprehension, and the traces of content happiness.

"America? What's going on?"

'Can't tell you.'

'Can't tell you.'

'Can't tell you.'

'Please...'

Then he looks up to see Russia looking at him with an expectant expression, hiding some anxiety behind it.

'He said something.'

'S***. What did he say?'

"Did you say something?" America asks quietly.

Russia's eyes go a little wide and he looks away for a moment, his cheeks growing pink.

"I asked you 'what's going on?'," Russia says, avoiding meeting America's eyes.

America looks away and doesn't respond.

"Please?" Russia tries, "You are acting weird and I'm worried."

'I don't want to worry you.'

'I have to stop with these f***ing breakdowns.'

'My emotions must be going to him.'

'Oh no.'

"I -uh," America starts, trailing off. 

America hums, and he doesn't try to say anything else. He curls up a little, turning away from Russia. He pulls away from the link as much as he can manage. He can still feel Russia's frazzled emotions but hopes to God that his own feelings are muted somehow.

Then, America is snapped out of his reverie by Russia pulling him into a careful hug. He turns into it and tucks his face away into Russia's shoulder, trying to hide from his thoughts. And the second he leans into it, Russia's arms tighten around him. America clings to him, clenching his jaw shut.

'Save me.'

'I have to tell you.'

'No, I can't.'

'I can't let you get hurt.'

'I can't risk this.'

'I'm sorry.'

'I have to do this by myself. If this goes wrong, I don't want anyone else getting hurt.' 

He feels someone begin brushing his hair back, and he tightens his grip, desperate for the comfort it offered. 

'I'm gonna be okay.'

'I have to be.'

America squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately to keep any tears from falling. 

A lump grows in his throat. 

America can feel his shoulders shake, and he feels Russia pull him in even closer, saying things in a comforting tone, though America isn't in the right mind to understand any of it. America reaches for the link, and he finds more concern than he could've expected. But there isn't any anger.

'Not angry?'

'Not angry I don't tell you?'

America feels tears begin to fall. He opens his mouth to apologize, but instead of words, sobs erupt from his mouth. 

The stress he'd held since childhood combines with the new crisis caused by the appearance of the dead flags flood his mind with fear and it completely overwhelms him. Horrible feelings he's helpless to stop. 

America tries to stop himself, biting his lip hard enough to make it burn. 

But America finds that he can't. He chokes on his cries and tries to halt them, but the wave of feelings knocks him off his feet. Then Russia offers more comfort, and America breaks.

He leans his full weight into Russia, who holds him and tells him "it's going to be okay."

'Why are you being so nice to me?'

'I've just been pushing you away.'

His whole body shakes, and Russia falls quiet. America feels the rest of his upset leaking away into his shaking shoulders, and the aching in his chest starts to disappear. He gasps for air and Russia rubs small circles on his back. 

The tears slow down and America's thoughts come back full force.

'Did I really cry in front of him?'

'What does he think of me now?'

America tries to pull away, feeling humiliated, only for Russia to pull him back.

"It's okay," Russia says quietly, his tone so sure.

America falls back into him and reaches for the link, only for calmness to meet him there. Looking deeper for any sign of discontent, he finds worry, but no anger or disappointment. 

'There's no way.'

'He has to be mad with me! He asked me a question that I'm not answering and I explode on him and-'

"It's okay."

America sniffles and closes his eyes. The weight that had lived in his chest is mostly gone. He feels lighter somehow. 

"I'm sorry," America mumbles.

"You don't have to apologize," Russia replies, his tone calm and comforting. 

America slowly pulls away, and this time, Russia allows him to go. America walks into the bathroom and locks the door. He blows his nose and splashes his face with cold water.

'Ew.'

He walks back out, and exhaustion weighs his feet down. He shuffles back into the room, only to see Russia had disappeared. A sinking feeling fills his chest until Russia walks back out, having changed his clothes. America looks away, embarrassment hitting him, but he can't focus on it.

America yawns, and Russia does the same in response before laughing quietly.

"Are you going to be okay?" Russia asks gently.

America nods. His eyelids begin to fall, and his head jerks back up. 

"The guest rooms are being used by my family," Russia says, an apology on the tip of his tongue if his tone is anything to go by, "you can use my room. I'll set something up for myself."

America nods and wanders back into the room, stopping by the bed. 

"Where am I sleeping?"

"The bed," Russia says bluntly.

"But what about you?"

"I'm going to get some blankets and sleep over there," Russia says vaguely, waving to space beside the bed and against the wall, away from the door.

America nods, too tired to do much else.

He could've sworn he heard Russia giggle when he faceplants into the blankets. He rolls over and gets comfortable, falling asleep fast.

His chest feels light.


	8. The Trains are Getting Very Suspicious

When America wakes up the next morning, Alaska is jumping over him, begging him to wake up.

"Good mornin' kiddo. What's up?" America asks, groggy.

"Grandpa isn't awake yet, but I wanted to play a game," Alaska says with a bright grin.

"Okay. Hold on, okay?" America says, waving her off.

Alaska beams before turning around and disappearing out the door. America sits up and rubs his face. He turns over and sees Russia stretching.

"Hey," America says, "sorry if she woke you up."

"It's okay," Russia replies, rubbing his eyes.

'Oh my god, your hair is so fluffy.'

America holds back the impulse to reach over and just mess with it. 

"Can I use your bathroom?" America stammers out looking away with color in his cheeks.

"What? Oh... yes. Go ahead," Russia replies, waving him out, "there are extra towels in the closet beside it."

America nods nervously before getting up. He grabs a change of clothes and disappears into the bathroom to clean himself up.

'I hope Alaska can stay out of trouble for just a few minutes.'

America begins to fret about his own clothing choices when he starts trying to fix his, now wet, hair. 

'I don't want to look like an idiot!'

'Russia is so much better than this.'

After a few tries, and a little styling gel, he gets it to stand up the way he likes it and he smiles.

'At least I still know how to do it.'

'If only my clothes could've matched a little more.'

'Oh well, too late now.'

There is a knock on the door and he unlocks it, still brushing his teeth. Alaska kicks open the door, and America jumps.

"It's breakfast time, and I want to shower," Alaska announces bluntly.

America spits out the foamy mess into the sink and laughs.

"No time for nonsense then, huh?" America asks, rinsing out his mouth and running the sink again to drain everything.

"Nope!" Alaska replies, pushing America out, "no time. Now gooooooo. Russia's waiting for you!"

"Wait. What are you-"

Alaska closes the door.

America sighs in bemusement.

'Am I really that obvious?'

America walks out to see Russia very tiredly eating something out of a small bowl. He smiles awkwardly. Russia doesn't look up at first.

"What is that?" America asks.

Russia's head jerks up and he glances at America before looking away. America can pinpoint Russia's embarrassment and shock as it comes through the link, and he laughs a little.

'I wonder what it is.'

'This emotions thing is getting a little easier.'

'It's probably because of practice.'

"It's kasha," Russia finally answers, sounding a little flustered, "do you want some?"

"Please," America replies with a nod. 

Russia hops up, dropping an unaccompanied small bowl into the sink as he reenters the kitchen. He hands America the bowl, and their fingers brush. America jerks a little at the sparks that he feels in his fingers. Russia retakes his seat, and America eats while the house starts to come to life with activity.

"Do you want to come with me to set up the meeting room?" Russia asks, pointing at America with his spoon.

"Yeah, sure," America says before he could consider the opposite.

Then he curses himself.

'Why did I agree to that?!'

'It's better than being stuck here with Soviet,' America thinks with a shiver.

'I'm gonna make a fool of myself.'

'D*** it all!'

"I bought 4 tickets anyway," Russia continues, " and I don't think Ukraine or Belarus would mind much if you come instead."

"Are you joking? I never wanted to go!" Ukraine says, taking a seat at the table.

Russia chuckles.

Eventually, Alaska emerges and asks America to do her hair. America complies, swiftly pulling it up into ponytails. Alaska giggles in excitement.

"Would you like to come with Russia and me to set up for tomorrow's meeting?"

"Uh, YEAH!" Alaska says, "Why did you even ask?!"

America laughs. Russia disappears soon after to get washed up and dressed, and America bids his time until he's stuck in closed quarters with Russia again.

The walk to the train station is cold, but not dramatically so. America had come prepared, after all. 

'Though I do wish I brought some thicker socks.'

Russia hands the tickets over and the walk on. The train car looks deserted. They sit together in the carriage, and Russia locks the door. 

'Great. Now I'm stuck here.'

Alaska bounces on his bunk and pointing out the window.

'Look Daddy!' America turns to see her point as some of the landscaping they pass. 

"Mh-hm. I see," America says, peaking over Alaska's shoulder. 

Eventually, the scenery loses his attention and his eyes lock on Russia's face. Russia is staring out the window, his head in his hand, leaning against the window sill. America admires Russia's face with a love-struck stare. His mind begins to wander.

'So pretty.'

'I want a hat.'

'Wanna hug him.'

'Snow is stupid.'

'Russia is so handsome.'

'Is very kind.'

'Kinda wanna kiss him.'

America's cheeks grow hot, but can't take his eyes away.

'I shouldn't be thinking about that.'

Russia looks up and meets America's eyes. America looks away, embarrassed. He feels Russia's amusement and crinkles his nose. 

"Don't laugh at me," America mumbles, staring determinately out the window.

Russia chuckles, and America can feel his glee leaking through.

Then, he feels someone kick his foot. He looks down and sees Russia kicking at him with a smirk, and if America focuses, he can feel the playful attitude from Russia. America's scowl turns to a grin when he kicks back.

America presses his back on the wall and kicks his feet against Russia's. Russia laughs and returns the favor. America kicks playfully, and can't help the giddy laughter that rises from the back of his throat. 

America playfully hits at Russia and tries to straighten his legs, and Russia fights to do the same. America grins wide enough to make his cheeks ache and he giggles.

Russia ultimately wins their little competition, and America pouts, crossing his arms.

Then, the motion from the hallway outside the carriage catches America's attention. His expression drops and his head whips around to stare out the small window built into the door. 

He doesn't see anyone.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks, concern in his tone.

"I thought I saw something, but I also thought no one else was in our train car."

"I didn't see anyone else get on," Russia comments, curiously looking out the window on the door.

America hums and stares out the window, waiting for the flash of red to return. Nothing ever does. He nervously starts analyzing his surroundings but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. Even still, dread gnaws at him.

The train ride is long, and America finds himself spacing out a little.

'I wonder if Russia likes me back.'

'No, he probably doesn't.'

'Even if he did, I can't....'

'Stupid soulmates..'

America crosses his arms. Russia gives him a concerned look, but America ignores it. 

'I saw something outside though.'

'It could've been nothing.'

'I have a bad feeling about it.'

The rest of the train ride is uneventful, but America isn't in the mood to continue joking around like he had before. He tries to shake off the dread buried in his stomach but finds it nearly impossible. He can feel Russia's worry but waves it off. He offers Russia a reassuring smile, and Russia returns it with one of his own. America looks away, trying not to get too worked up over it.

'He is so god d*** cute.'

The train rolls to a stop and America dawns his coat. He walks out, Russia on one side and Alaska on the other. America hangs back while Russia does the negotiating. Though he could understand every word, he doesn't say anything, afraid that he'll intrude

They arrive at the building around early afternoon, and America walks through the slushy snow to get to the entrance, holding Alaska to keep her out of the sludge.

America does get strange looks from the security personnel, and many gave Alaska accusing looks. America glares back, the message of 'don't f*** with my child,' clear in his eyes. Russia slows a little and walks close beside him, and America tries his best to ignore the warmth in his cheeks.

'Oh my god, you are so close to me.'

'He smells nice.'

'WHAT THE F*** BRAIN?!'

America scowls and feels even his ears start to turn red. 

America puts Alaska down and takes her hand, and she stays close to his side, almost trying to hide behind his leg from the surrounding air.

America continues to look around and spots several guards eyeing them from around the building. Russia steps a little in front of him and glares at the guards, who turn away at seeing him. America's cheeks grow pink.

'Him defending me????'

Giddy feelings fill his stomach.

'No, I can't think about that now! I'll get all distracted.'

They walk into the meeting room and America takes a stack of paperwork to help sort it out. He moves and sits beside Russia. Russia gives him a curious look, and America stares down at the papers, pretending not to see Russia at all. 

Russia takes a seat beside him, and America relaxes a little, happy Russia isn't going to fight him on the seating arrangement. Alaska sits on America's other side, swinging her feet under the table. America smiles.

"Hey, is this important?" America asks, handing a lone, almost blank sheet of paper to Russia to glance over.

"No," Russia answers, handing it back and turning his attention back to his own stack of papers to read and sign.

America nods and hands the sheet to Alaska, who folds it into an airplane. Alaska begins drawing people in windows and America smiles. Russia stands up.

"I'll be right back," Russia says, gathering a folder with several packets of paper, " I need to go give these to the building supervisor."

America nods and continues sorting papers into different stacks and Alaska starts throwing around her paper airplane. 

Suddenly, America feels his hair stand on end. He looks up and a flash of red catches his eye outside one of the windows. He focuses on the spot, only to see nothing. Alaska retreats back to his side.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" Alaska asks, her voice nervous.

"It's okay, pumpkin. I'm just a little high strung is all."

Alaska hums, sounding unsure.

"It's okay kiddo," America says reassuringly.

"I'm seeing stuff too," Alaska mutters, "like people looking through the windows. Their flags are weird."

America tenses.

'S***.'

"Uhhh," America stammers, looking around and scanning the windows, "let's go find Russia, okay?"

America stands, abandoning the papers on the table and taking Alaska's hand, eyeing the door that Russia had left through.

"Okay Daddy," Alaska says, and her grip tightens.


	9. Getting Really Tired of This Panic

America wanders through the hallways, not wanting to be in a room with windows. He watched for any sign of a building supervisor or Russia. Either of them would work, America decides.

America tugs Alaska closer to him, and keeps his eyes peeled, glaring at any guard in his way. But one of the larger guards doesn't move.

"*What are you doing?*" the guard questions.

"*I am trying to find a friend,*" America replies hastily, trying to sneak a peak around the guard's wide frame.

The guard scowls and crosses his arms. 

"*I will call security to have you removed,*" the guard warns with a scowl.

America begins to panic.

'Where is he?'

America scoops Alaska up into his arms and begins to back away slowly.

"*We will not be any trouble,*" America says calmly.

The guard crosses his arms and glares. America backs away, clutching Alaska close. Alaska hooks her arms around his neck, scared and angry. America forces a smile.

'I have to get him off my case.'

"*I am just here with a friend and we got lost,*" America explains, trying not to flinch at the blatant mispronunciations.

'Please. I'm just a tourist, no need to do anything.' 

America beams, hiding his fear, and can feel Alaska doing something similar.

The guard scoffs.

"*Stupid Americans,*" The guard mumbles, "*go back to where you came from.*"

America grins and turns around, walking calmly around a corner. The second he can't see the guard anymore, he begins to run, and Alaska clutches to him and he bolts back into the original room. 

The link lights up with panic.

America slides back into the conference room, plowing into Russia, knocking all of them to the conference room floor. America breaths heavily and pulls away. He looks around and sees Alaska sprawled out near one of the office's chairs

"Alaska?"

"I'm okay!" Alaska replies, sitting up with a grin.

America lets out a sigh of relief. Then he looks up at Russia, who heaves a sigh of relief and pulls them into a hug. America yelps and Alaska laughs. Russia lets them go and Russia glares at America before hugging him tighter, letting Alaska go back to the table.

America's mind goes completely blank

Russia lets him go, and America stands stock still, his face burning.

"Why did you leave?" Russia asks, his tone annoyed, but his cheeks glow red.

"Uhh- oh! We saw something weird outside and I went looking for you," America replies, running a hand through his hair.

"What? What did you see?"

Before America can answer, Alaska interjects.

"I saw people watching us from out the windows, but when I tried to look, they hid."

Russia hums, looking stoic. America reaches for the link and senses Russia's worry. 

"It'll be okay," America soothes before he could stop himself.

Russia looks up, startled, before shaking his head and trying to hide his face. America breathes a sigh of relief.

'Good. He's not catching on.'

'At least, I hope he's not.'

That thought sends a pang through his chest, but he ignores it. He reaches for the link and latches onto it for comfort.

'It's for the best.'

That thought sounded loud, even in his own head. He bites his lip. It pulls at his heart. He scowls and tries to push down the sting. He sighs and offers Russia a weak smile.

"What's for the best?" Russia asks, his tone innocent and curious.

America freezes. He pulls away from the link in shock.

'Wait, did I say that out loud?'

'No, I didn't. I'm still biting my tongue.'

'But then how..?'

"Mr. Russia," Alaska interrupts, "what are you talking about?"

"America said something was for the best. I was asking what," Russia replies, as if there was nothing strange going on.

Alaska looks confused, and America loses his breath.

'Russia?'

"What?" Russia asks, turning back to face him.

America's heart skips a beat and begins pounding in his chest.

"I -um. Can we go back to your place? Please?" America begs, his eyes wide and paranoia eating away at his patience.

"Why?" Russia asks.

"The weird people outside?" America tries, his voice raising an active and his palms begin to get clammy.

"America, you're panicking again," Russia says, his expression turning soft, "what is going on?"

'What do I say?'

'Does this room have microphones?'

'Cameras?'

'We have to get out of here.'

"Is your family still at your place?" America asks.

"No," Russia admits, "they left right after we did to help..." Russia trails off, looking around the room, his eyes narrow.

"Can we leave?" Alaska asks, her nervous manner matching America.

Russia looks at them for a second before nodding.

"Let me get a few things," Russia says gently.

"Can we follow?" America asks, bouncing on his feet.

'I don't think you can.' 

Russia's voice rings in America's head. 

But America didn't see Russia's mouth move. 

America's stomach twists and his heart finds a home in his throat. 

'Mind-reading like this shouldn't be possible.'

'MIND-READING LIKE THIS SHOULDN'T BE POSSIBLE!'

"Please?" America whines, giving his best puppy-eyed look.

Russia looks away, his cheeks pink.

'I can do it tomorrow.'

America sighs and Russia gathers the papers. America throws on his jacket and Alaska wrestles with hers. They leave quickly, and America herds Alaska in between both Russia and himself, dread in his chest.

America can't sit still, and for the entire train ride, he paces the train car.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

America can vaguely register Russia's concern in the back of his mind, but he pushes it back. 

'I can't do this right now.'

'I can't risk this right now.'

They arrive to an empty house, and America nearly falls into his panic as he sits back on the couch. He takes a breath to steady his tone and turns to Alaska.

"Alaska, I need to talk to Russia," America says, "why don't you get settled into one of the guest rooms, okay?"


	10. Spilling Everything Like a Leaky Faucet

Alaska nods and walks off, giving America concerned looks the entire way.

America rubs his eyes and watches the colored static for a moment. He hears a door shut and sighs, staring ahead at a dull wall behind the furniture.

"Russia," America says, his throat blocked, "I- I need to tell you something."

Russia watches him, his eyes shining with concern. But he doesn't say anything.

America takes a deep breath and feels tears gather in his eyes. 

'I can't back out.'

'I can't keep avoiding this.'

"You have to promise not to tell anyone."

Russia nods and leans a little closer. America looks away.

"So, just... look at my face," America says quietly.

Russia watches a little confusion.

'I'm not talking.'

Russia's eyes go wide and his mouth drops open.

"How are you doing that?" Russia asks quietly.

"We're... linked," America stammers, fidgeting with his hands, "like a mental link. For emotions and thoughts, apparently."

'Can you hear me?'

America nods seriously, and Russia falls back. America's heart pounds in his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Russia asks breathlessly.

"I didn't want to... its..." America trails off and almost didn't finish.

America looks up and Russia is staring at him, and America feels Russia's need for more information, more details. America caves, and curls up a little, as if to disappear from sight.

America fumbles with his words and opens his mouth to continue, and everything comes spilling out. 

"I- We're linked" America starts, "But countries aren't supposed to be connected like this. I didn't want to tell you because if you knew, you could get punished too and I... I didn't want you to get hurt," America rambles.

'The other countries with those types of bonds are given treatments,' he mentally adds.

"Would you get... 'punished' anyway?" Russia asks.

"Well... yeah. Better me than you," America says with a stiff shrug and averted eyes.

"What? No!" Russia exclaims.

America jerks a little and Russia looks away. America can feel a little of Russia's embarrassment.

"That's not fair," Russia protests, his voice back to a low volume.

"But I don't want you to get hurt," America says plainly, crossing his arms.

"You shouldn't have to do that," Russia says quietly, brushing America's cheek with his thumb.

America looks away and feels some of the tears begin to fall.

"Are you crying?" Russia asks, with his panic leaking into the link.

America looks up with a smile and tears streaming down his face. He leans into Russia's hand and enjoys the static-y warm feeling it gives him.

"I'm okay," America assures softly, "I've just been so stressed trying to hide it from you and it...finally talking about this to you helps."

Russia looks away for a moment before pulling America into a tight hug.

'You don't have to protect me.'

Russia's voice rings in America's head. It felt as if Russia is actually talking to him, but America notes the distinct lack of vibration from Russia himself.

'But I want to,' America replies.

'Then let me do the same.'

'I don't want you to get hurt,' America protests.

Russia hugs him tighter.

'Like it or not, we are connected, so we are in this together,' Russia encourages, his tone is calm.

America embraces Russia tightly. 

When Russia pulls back, America feels a little lost. Longing bites at him, but he tries to fight it back.

"Is this why I felt so bad when you would disappear?" Russia asks, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his eyes.

America's face burns and he nods, staring at his hands.

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was freaking you out," America mutters.

"No! It's okay," Russia rushes out, waving his hands in what seemed like a panic.

America can't help but giggle at the display. 

'You're cute.'

America holds his breath and watches Russia for any reaction. Russia doesn't seem to react, not even through his emotions. America sighs.

'Okay, I just have to be careful,' America notes.

"Can you only hear me when I try to..." Russia fumbles with his words for a second, "send it to you?"

"I think so," America says, "or when you just think really loud? I don't know. But I don't hear everything, and I don't think you can either."

Russia nods.

Then America hears footsteps out in the hallway and his heart skips a beat.

'Alaska?'

Russia jerks a little, but America doesn't pay it much attention. America stands and quietly creeps into the hallway. Alaska jumps when she spots him. She stares back with tears in her eyes and fear on her face. 

"How much did you hear?" America asks, a bit of panic in his tone. 

Alaska looks away.

'Should we tell her?'

America was about to shout "no!" but the suggestion got his gears turning.

'It could help.'

'She probably already knows something.'

'And we don't want her to ask the wrong people,' America finishes.

America turns back to Alaska, only to find her staring up at him, a terrified look on her face.

"I think you have some questions," America says gently, "come on. We'll see what we can answer."

Alaska nods and walks in, her head tilted down. Concern hits America hard and he crouches down. He puts a hand on Alaska's shoulder.

"Kiddo, what's wrong?"

Alaska looks up through tears.

"Are you gonna get hurt?" she squeaks, wiping her face.

"No! No," America says, trying desperately to comfort her, "Baby-girl, I'm okay."

"But you said that you would get punished and hurt and..." Alaska blabbers.

America looks at Russia for help, though Russia looks just as lost as he feels. America sighs and gives Alaska a brief hug. America lets her go and holds her by her shoulders.

"Snowstorm, listen to me, I'm gonna be okay, I promise. Both of us will be. We just have to keep what's going on with Russia and me on the down-low, okay?" America comforts, trying to hide the desperation in his tone.

"What? With the connection you mentioned?" Alaska asks, wiping her tears away.

"Exactly," America says, "We just can't talk about it in front of other people, okay?"

"Okay," Alaska says quietly, sniffling.

Alaska hugs him and makes him promise that he'll actually be okay. Once she gets the reassurance she's looking for, she quiets and retreats to a guest room. 

America sighs.

'Oh, Alaska... I didn't want to make you upset.'

Then America feels a rush of calm and content feelings fill him. He knew they weren't own, but they felt intense nonetheless. He turns and finds Russia offering an experimental smile. 

"What did you just do?" America asks.

"I'm not sure. I thought about good things and tried to share good feelings," Russia says with a shrug, "did it work?"

America gives him a happy nod.

"Thanks," America says.

Russia hums.

"Does your family know?" Russia asks.

'S***. Now I have to tell Dixie.'

Russia laughs.

"Don't laugh at me!" America whines and crosses his arms, trying to hide the smile growing on his face.

'Confed.'

America's face falls with a pang to his nerves. 

'It's nothing,' America tries to convince himself.

'But it might be connected to the weird stuff that happened earlier today,' his mind insists.

"Listen, Russ, for the meeting tomorrow," America says, looking away, "I have a bad feeling about it."

"Does it have something to do with what happened today?"

"Yeah. I just... I don't know. Something isn't right," America mumbles, tossing his hair. 

"I don't think I can do anything about that now," Russia says, "we will already have security there."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Alaska walks back in and slowly makes her way to America's side. She sits down quietly and leans against him, practically leaking worry. They sit together in silence, and America lets his thoughts wander, but tries to keep them muffled, knowing that something embarrassing might slip through the link. 

'If nothing else, tomorrow is going to be interesting.'


	11. America REALLY Doesn't Have a Good Feeling About This

The meeting starts normally enough, as normal as it is to see America sitting in his seat with a child on one side and Canada on the other.

'Who am I kidding? This is really weird.'

Russia snickers behind his hand and America shoots him a glare.

'Shut up, a**hole. Sometimes I just think loud.'

'Sometimes?'

'LOUD!'

America smirks seeing Russia wince. Russia glares at him playfully and America sticks out his tongue. 

Canada elbows America and when America turns his attention, Canada looks at him with a smirk before passing a note written on a torn corner of one of the informational packets.

"You flirting with Russia?" the paper reads in Canadian french.

"He's my soulmate." America hurriedly writes in very small and swirly letters, and he's very quick to shove it under Canada's papers.

Canada pulls up the paper to read it and his eyes go wide. 

"No s***," Canada mutters, eyes wide.

"Boys! What does that bloody paper say?" UK demands, trying to snatch the paper, a suspicious look on his face.

Both Canada and America get deer caught in headlights looks and Canada shoves the paper into his mouth. 

"What paper?" Canada asks, putting on his best innocent look.

"Canada, open your mouth," UK demands, crossing his arms.

Canada swallows with a grimace before opening his mouth.

"See?" America says, raising an eyebrow, "what are you talking about?"

Then America looks up at hearing Russia trying to hide his laughter. America feels a mischievous spark and he smirks, but seeing Alaska looking up at him for guidance keeps him in his seat. 

"But you clearly ripped off the corner of your paper."

"Well, actually, I did," America says with a smirk.

"Why the bloody h*** would you do that?" UK asks, clearly annoyed.

"I wanted a snack," America snarks back with a shrug.

UK sighs and shakes his head. Alaska giggles and America gives Canada a high five. 

'Do you want a snack?'

America's eyes light up and he grins. He stares down at the table and ignores the confused look Canada gives him.

'Really? You could get me something to eat?'

'I can get some chips if you like.'

'Could you grab two bags please?'

Russia nods subtly at him and leaves.

'Wait, no. Three.'

'Okay.'

America sighs and stares down at the table until he gets a gentle smack on the back of the head.

"(You're staring down at the table like it's the love of your life. You gotta calm down before someone catches on,)" Canada signs quickly.

America swallows nervously and pulls at the collar of his shirt.

'Okay. Gotta calm down. Jeez.'

'I didn't realize I was being that obvious.'

Russia walks back into the room and drops a few bags in front of America and carries one with him back to his seat. America grins, handing a bag to Alaska and one to Canada, keeping the third for himself.

"Thank you!" America chirps, and he doesn't notice how Russia turns away, turning bright red with a hand over his mouth. 

"Oh my God," Canada mumbles with a laugh, jabbing America in the ribs.

"Hey! Dixie does that enough!"

"Oh, hush. Look, he's is head over heels for you," Canada says, waving to Russia.

America averts his eyes and tries to push back the heat filling his face.

"He is not," America argues quietly, crossing his arms with a scowl.

"He is too!" Canada whisper-yells.

America rolls his eyes.

'Bulls***.'

'Soulmates could be platonic too.'

'There is no f***ing way he likes me.'

'Canada is probably just f***ing with me.'

'Again.'

'Don't wanna make Russia uncomfortable.'

'Can't risk ruining any chance at being friends.'

America looks down. The thoughts about it made him feel a little down, but he decides to ignore it the best he can. He begins to shove chips into his mouth as a distraction. He also avoids Russia's concerned look.

'Are you upset?'

'I'm okay.'

America can feel Russia's worry and blushes.

'Don't worry about me.'

Russia nods a little before he begins to order the papers and passing them out. 

America can't help the warm feelings that fill his stomach when he sees Russia hand Alaska some coloring pages and crayons. 

Alaska colors the papers, humming happily and kicking her feet.

"Would you like to introduce our new little guest?" UN asks, pointing to Alaska.

"She's mine," America replies shortly.

UN rolls her eyes and looks to Russia.

"Have you approved of this arrangement?"

"Yes," Russia replies with an affirmative nod and a hardened look.

America smiles and averts his eyes, covering his face.

"You're blushing at his b*tch face," Canada whispers.

"Shut up!" America hisses.

'Don't make this worse!'

Then, a sudden feeling of dread hits America in the chest.

'Something's wrong.'

America and Russia make eye contact, and America sees the mirroring dread in Russia's eyes.

Russia began to survey the areas outside the windows, and America loops an arm around Alaska's shoulders. 

America tries to ignore the anxiety the best he could but finds himself continuously scanning the room and doors.

Then, there is knocking on the door. America's eyes fly to the door and the frame rattles.

Russia gets up to open it.

'This isn't a good idea.'

'What else should I do?'

America watches carefully as Russia pulls open the door. A face he'd hoped to never see again tries to force himself into the room. Russia reacts immediately and shoves the guy back.

"Who are you?" Russia demands, his voice deep and demanding

If America had been any less terrified, he would've noticed the pleasant shiver running down his spine at Russia's tone.

The man cackles in an all to familiar-sounding tone, though America can't remember if he had ever heard it before.

America hands Alaska's hand to Canada.

"Watch her," America hisses under his breath.

Canada nods and takes Alaska's hand and backs up toward a supply closet. America hurries to Russia's side and sees Russia wrestling a shotgun away from the hands of a flag America never wanted to see again.

As soon as the figure spots America, he stops fighting and grins. Russia yanks the gun away as the figure starts talking.

"America, just the man I wanted to see," the figure says.

"Who the f*** are you?" America demands with a scowl.

"Aww, I was sure you would recognize me. After all, wasn't it your people who created me?"

America snarls and readies himself for a fight.

"Y'all can call me Confed," the figure, Confederacy, says with a grin.

America flinches at the pain that shoots through his head. Russia stands beside him, the newly acquired firearm in his hands.

"I'm sure you'd love to see who I have with me," Confederacy says.

"What the f*** did you do?" America growls.

Confederacy reaches behind him and yanks a frazzled-looking South Carolina into the room by his hair.

America's heart drops into his feet.

"Scar!" America shouts, taking a long step toward the state.

"Uh uh uh," Confederacy says, bringing a knife to South Carolina's neck, "not so fast."

"Let go of him!" America demands, feeling helpless. So close, yet unable to do anything.

"Come any closer, I take his head."

"Dad, help me," South Carolina mouths.

"Let him go," America commands.

"Oh, that's gonna be a trade," Confederacy says flippantly.

"Do anything you want with me, but don't touch my kids," America says, standing.

America feels Russia's discontent immediately.

'What are you doing?!'

A smile appears on Confederacy's face. 

'He's a state. I can't let him get hurt.'

Russia stands by, and America almost feels back at how bothered Russia feels. Even still, Russia doesn't argue. 

"Oh, it's not you I'm looking for."

"Then what do you want?!"

"Daddy?" Alaska calls.

'NO!'

"Oh! We have another youngin here, huh?" 

Alaska flies to behind America's leg.

America feels his fear wash over him. 

'Don't touch her.'

Russia stands at his other side, blocking Alaska from view.

Then America feels the barrel of a gun hit the back of his head.

'S***.'


	12. Planes Rides Aren't Supposed to be Taken in a Lion's Cage

America slowly turns his head to see a guard standing behind him, a gun to his head. The other countries are gathered by other guards into the corner of the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" Russia demands, baring his teeth.

"Oh, the guards? They're with us now."

America could feel Russia's fear and watches with a little admiration at how he translates it into anger to keep the guards on edge. America watches how Confederacy holds South Carolina by his hair and America holds back the instinct to jerk away and hug his kid.

'I can't risk him getting hurt.'

'I'm so sorry Scar.' 

Confederacy cackles and drops South Carolina. South Carolina rolls a little before scrambling to America, pain in his eyes. America feels tears gather and he forces himself to stay upright, more than a little aware of the gun barrel behind him.

'Oh kiddo.'

'What I wouldn't give to hug you.'

South Carolina latches onto America, and he turns and glares at Confederacy.

"What do you want with us?" South Carolina demands, a quiver under his voice.

America's heart cracks.

'I should be the one able to protect you.'

America's eyes return to Confederacy and he can't help the sparking blue that surrounds his hands.

"The kid gets it if you try anything," a guard says gruffly from behind him.

America stiffens and scowls, trying to force back the tears.

'Why is this happening?!'

"What is this about?" America asks, keeping his tone low.

"For me? Revenge," Confederacy says with a dirty smirk, his teeth crooked and dark yellow.

America snarls.

"Now you need to follow me unless you want us to give those kids some damage," Confederacy says, pointing at America and Russia and turning around.

Russia and America share a look.

'I really... should we go?'

'We don't have much of a choice.'

America walks forward slowly,

"Hands up," the guard demands.

America forces his arms up, and his mind spins a mile a minute.

"Take the kids too," Confederacy says.

'Nonononononono!'

Alaska whines softly, but South Carolina takes her hand, whispering comfort.

"Daddy will get us out of this," South Carolina promises, "but we have to listen to these men right now."

America's chest squeezes with anger. 

"Quiet!" a guard snaps.

The states lock hands and stay close enough to America that America has to pay special attention not to trip over them. Guilt and shame choke him.

'My babies. I'm so sorry.'

'This isn't your fault.'

America looks away.

'How are we going to get out of here.'

'... I don't know.'

They walk down the empty hallways. Footsteps echo against the walls. America tries desperately to look around for a way to escape. 

'How many guards do you think there are?'

'Eight going by the footsteps.'

'S***.'

They are walked into a plane and America shivers at the outside air. 

'Are you okay?'

'Really?'

'You're shivering.' 

The thought is accompanied by a little of Russia's embarrassment. America shakes his head.

They get led into a small cage. Russia leans over to enter and the states follow him. America tries to make a run for one of the firearms, but he is shoved back. He hits the floor hard and he wheezes, the air knocked out of him. Canada is shoved in behind him.

South Carolina and Alaska rush to his side and Alaska whines. 

"Be quiet, brat." Another voice says loudly.

Alaska bites her lip and a few tears drip down her cheeks. America forces himself up and he wipes away Alaska's tears. 

"Snowstorm, baby, shhh," America whispers, "daddy's here."

Alaska nods and sniffles. America feels his heart pull itself apart and feels tears pool in his eyes seeing his kids so upset. Then, Alaska hugs him tightly.

"It's okay Daddy. We'll get out of here," Alaska mutters.

'Oh, baby...'

America hugs her tight.

"Daddy's gonna get you two out of here," America mutters, hugging South Carolina and Alaska together. 

Then America gently takes South Carolina by his shoulders and sits him down in front of him.

"Scar, are you okay?"

"Yeah," South Carolina replies, running a hand through his hair, "my head just kinda hurts."

"Did he do anything to hurt you before?" America asks, examining his arms and legs for injuries.

"Dad," South Carolina says, pulling away from America a little, "I'm okay."

America nods before turning his attention to Canada and Russia. Canada sits quietly in one of the back corners and Russia doesn't seem injured. America could feel his anger and betrayal, but he doesn't seem hurt.

"Scar, Is there a chance he got to anyone else?"

"No, I don't think so. I happened to run into him while visiting York, but no one else was with me."

America lets out a sigh and shakes his head a little. Then he turns his attention to the guards and Confederacy himself and he snarls. America grabs the bars of the cage and begins to shake them. The bars begin to bend, but before America can get them open enough to escape, he sees a gun pointed square between Alaska's eyes.

The image of a scared Alaska staring up the barrel of a gun imprints itself into America's eyelids, and he jumps up, tackling Alaska and covering her, not allowing the guard even the sight of her.

America glares over his shoulder at the guard, who gives a careless expression back.

America's emotions rage deep in his lungs, but he can't risk crying now. He can't risk panicking his kids.

"(Are you okay?)" America signs to Alaska.

Alaska nods, and America shuffles her back to the back edge of the confinement. If America had to guess, he would say it was probably a cage for a large animal.

"Oh, are you doing sign language now?" Confederacy asks.

America flips him off.

Confederacy laughs and turns around. America growls under his breath. 

Then he feels a hand hit his shoulder.

America spins around and just barely stops himself from decking Russia in the face. The anger drops from his face.

"Sorry," America mutters.

"You have to calm down," Russia whispers.

"But-"

'I know. I want to deal with them as well. But lashing out now will only get people hurt.'

America looks away, feeling defeated.

'We will get out of here.'

America looks up to find Russia staring at him with a caring smile. America smiles back and averts his eyes as he feels his cheeks fill with color.

America reaches for the link and is hit by the real extent of Russia's anger. It nearly fills his mind entirely as soon as he tries to explore it. It takes his breath away, and the fear leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

America gasps as he surfaces from a pool of emotions. 

'How do you survive?'

'That was you?'

America doesn't bother replying, trying to calm his breathing down. 

The feeling of being submerged in Russia's energy was exhilarated and terrifying. 

Completely intoxicating.

'Note to self, try that when we're not trapped somewhere on a plane.'

'Where are we going?'

'It's cold.'

'Wait, if it's cold for me, how's South Carolina doing?'

"Scar?" America calls softly, only to find him with Alaska's jacket on his chest and sleeping, leaning into the back wall between the bars.

America smiles softly seeing Alaska tuck herself into South Carolina's side.

Canada catches his eye, and Canda smirks.

"(Kiss him,)" Canada signs.

America's face turns bright red, and his whole mind bluescreens. Canada snickers. Then America is pulled into something warm and Canada starts laughing. America looks up only to see that Russia had wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a side hug.

America stiffens, feeling too flustered to know what to do. But when he feels Russia become unsure, he forces himself to relax.

'Smells nice...'

'What?'

America's face burns and he looks away. He sees Canada, who smirks and does crude hand gestures.

'You are NOT helping!'

'Nothing!'

'You're warm though.'

America forces himself to keep his eyes open, no matter how tempting sleeping felt.

'I have to watch those f***ing guards.'

'Make sure they don't touch my f***ing kids.'

Then America notices that Russia's anger doesn't feel as overwhelming as it had just minutes ago. Now, everything feels fuzzy and warm. America is sure if he tries to find it, he'd be able to find it, but decides against trying to explore the link for now.

'This might be the best I'm going to get for a while. Might as well enjoy it.'


	13. WHY ISN'T THE PLANE FLYING?!

America leans his head on Russia's side, eyeing the guards suspiciously. They had been sitting there for what felt to America like hours, and America feels his eyelids droop.

'No. Can't go to sleep.'

'But it's so warm.'

'If Confederacy is here, what else came back?'

'I want to stay here. It makes me feel fuzzy inside .'

'But I'm going to fall asleep.'

America sits up a little and Russia sighs.

'I wonder where we're going.'

'I don't know.'

'I'm tired.'

'Then you should sleep.'

'But I don't want to risk it.'

'I'll watch.'

'Really?'

'Yes.'

'Just wake me up if something happens.'

'Okay.'

America closes his eyes and his ears strain to listen for any movement around him. He can't get himself to relax. Worry fills him, but he can't bring himself to open his eyes.

'Wait, if Russia can feel my emotions...'

'Sorry.'

'?'

'I know my emotions can be too-'

'You don't have to apologize.'

'But-'

Russia pulls America into a hug and America's thoughts shudder to a stop. America feels Russia trying to give him more positive emotions. The emotions are conflicted, and an undercurrent of anger simmers under the surface of the warm feelings. America smiles a little.

'I appreciate the effort.'

America leans again Russia's chest and he takes a deep breath. Then he notices some strange noises coming from the cockpit. He feels Russia move and he opens his eyes. Looking around, he sees the guards and Confederacy beginning to panic.

'Are you awake?'

'What's going on?!'

Suddenly America gets the sensation of the floor falling away from him. He rolls forward and his arms begin to flail around as he tried to find his balance. The floor jerks back up and he lands on his back with a grunt and America hops to his feet, struggling over to his kids. Alaska pulls on her jacket and South Carolina stares at the guards, his eyes filled with confusion and veiled panic. 

America's heart sinks. 

Then his gut seems to rise and the floor suddenly falls away. America's back hits the ceiling hard and America's head jerks back. Then the floor suddenly springs to meet him. 

The world goes black.


	14. This is Getting Bad, Very Very Bad

America's eyes open to fire.

The fumes and heat make his eyes water and he hears a shriek within the smoke. He takes a gasp of air and coughs. He can feel panic, but he isn't sure if it's his or Russia.

America gets to his knees and tries his best to ignore the haze surrounding him, choking him with every breath.

"ALASKA! SCAR!"

"DAD!" Alaska shrieks. 

America rips open metal bars and finds Alaska backed into a corner by wrecked metal, crying and frantic.

America grabs her around the waist and throws her over his shoulder. He fights against the smoke and manages to escape into the fresh air. He drops Alaska into the grass and sees Russia and Canada standing near the burning treeline with South Carolina nearby. 

America gasps and coughs hard enough to throw up. And then America hears shooting from behind him. 

'S***!'

America stumbles over the snow and shoves his hands into the ice to stand up. He struggles over to where Russia is turning around to run. Alaska runs up to them, her stride one of practiced grace over the snow and ice.

'We need to leave!'

"I know that!" America snaps.

Ameria spits the foul taste out of his mouth before racing to meet up with his kids and Russia.

Snow is falling. The ground is squishy but still partially solid. It crunches under his feet and sinks into his shoes. 

America gulps the cold air and puffs of his breath trail behind him. He stumbles over clumps of snow, his skin burning with the icy cold of the wind. 

Gunshots ring out from behind them and guards shout in German, English, and Russian. America grabs Alaska's hand and begins yanking her with him, running in zigzags into the trees behind Canada.

They dodge the flames and dive into the cold, dark shadows beneath the towering forestry.

'S***! S***! S***!'

America's mind spins as he stares around, trying to take in as much information as possible. He watches over his shoulder and behind the wall of flames that lick at the dreary skyline. He catches a glance at the soldiers stumbling out of the debris. A few of them begin to talk into what America can only assume are walkie-talkies.

Confederacy bursts from the wreckage, machine gun in hand, screaming.

'Oh no...'

America searches around and spots a more crowded area of plant life.

'LEFT!'

Russia swerves left without hesitation, and Canada follows suit. But South Carolina continues running toward the more open area. With enemies on his tail, he can't risk screaming out their destination.

'Grab South Carolina. Please!'

Russia spins around and snatches South Carolina by the hand. Russia throws the kid's arm over his shoulder, dragging him through the overgrowth. America runs up behind Russia, Alaska stumbling at his side. South Carolina's lips start turning blue and he hugs his arms, shivering, and America notes Russia supporting more of his weight.

'S***. It's too cold for him here.'

'We need to find shelter.'

America begins shivering and his skin pricks up from the cold. Adrenaline fills his system and he continues to sprint. Alaska clings to his arm. 

'Yeah, but we need to get away first.'

Russia gives him a nod and pulls South Carolina onto his back

'What are you doing?'

'He's getting too cold, but we need to keep moving.'

America ducks behind a tree, eyes wide.

Tree bark and branches fly around him and the gunfire starts getting louder. America hoists Alaska up and he holds her against his chest.

'I will not let them get her.'

Alaska clings onto him like Odysseus onto the cyclops's sheep. 

America sprints as fast as his legs can take him, wiping under his nose with the back of his hand. Wind rushes in his ears and he feels them sting before going numb.

'Where are we going?'

'To hide. Follow me.'

America's hands and feet start to go numb, but he ignores it. 

America continues running, the sludge caking his shoes and legs. Alaska clings to him, and America begins to think that she's the only reason that his core stays warm. Wind rushes past his face and his cheeks sting.

America pants and his lungs begin to spasm at the freezing air. 

Cursing and more gunfire and explosions chase them further into the trees.

'Where are you?!'

'Behind you.'

'I don't see you.'

'Well, it's not like I can stop. How's Scar?'

'We need to find shelter soon. He is not dressed for this. None of us are.'

Then America feels something graze his leg and he nearly stumbles over a clump of ice.

'S***!'

He ducks behind another group of trees and tries to spot where Canada had disappeared to and catches a glimpse of a familiar dark blue.

'South Carolina!'

America's legs had gone almost completely numb save a dull throbbing, so he can't gauge the damage. He pushes forward, even as his limbs begin to disagree on his movement. He clumsily runs through the brumal nightmare. His shivers cause him to almost lose his grip on the back of Alaska's coat.

'I wish I had my jacket.'

America glances behind him, only to realize why they had been able to get so close.

'I'm leaving a trail of blood?!'

'Blood?! What's going on?'

'I think I got hit. I-'

America bites his cheek to keep from cursing aloud and his mind works on overdrive.

'How can I lose them?'

He can feel Russia's growing panic in his mind, but his thoughts occupy any free space in his mind, keeping him too busy to reply. 

'I can't keep doing this, I'm going to freeze.'

'What do I do? What do I do?!'

'I could b**** slap them.'

'That won't help very much, but I guess I could.'

'No, stupid idea.'

The knee of his injured leg begins to give out, and sheer panic fills his mind. He pushes himself back up with his hands and struggles forward.

'I am NOT going to die here.'

But even then, his knees sink into the freezing sludge, and he gasps, his lungs burning and his heart pounding hard enough to shake his arms. He struggles to his feet, only to collapse again. He hears footsteps approaching, and he instinctually curls around Alaska, who lays frozen in terror.

"Oh, now who do we got here?" Confederacy asks from above him.

America growls and snarls.

'I'm not saying a f***ing word to you, you b******.'

"Ohh! A kiddo, ain't it?"

Confederacy leans over with faux caring, reaching to caress Alaska's face. America pulls her away as best as he can and snaps at him, nearly biting off his fingers. Confederacy recoils, but his smirk soon returns.

'Help help helphelpme' his thoughts sputter and horror floods his system.

Outwardly, America growls and crawls away from Confederacy, putting himself between Alaska and the monster towering over him. COnfederacy laughs.

"Aww, how sad. Looks like I'm better of than you are, now come 'ere. I'll help you."

'It's cuz you have a coat from the Russian guards, you pompous a**hole.'

America is able to get Alaska off of him and behind some of the foliage. America pulls himself up to his shaking legs with his numbed and frozen hands, glaring at Confederacy. He turns to face Alaska, watching Confederacy closely in his peripheral vision.

"You need to go," America whispers hoarsely.

"But Daddy-"

"No, I don't want you to get hurt. Find your uncle."

"Daddy please!"

"There ain't gonna be no time for that!" Confederacy says with a chuckle.

Confederacy moves to shout over his shoulder, possibly to get the attention of the guards, only to be tackled to the ground by a blur. Confederacy falls to the ground with a grunt and someone grabs America's arm. 

America's head swivels around, and the world spins. 

He finds Canada pulling him up by his arm.

America turns his attention back to the fight and finds Russia breaking Confederacy's nose with a well-aimed punch. Then Russia slams a fist into the side of Confederacy's head, muttering something that America couldn't understand. Confederacy goes limp.

Russia hops up and grabs Alaska's hand. With his other hand, he pulls at America's leg

"Are you okay?" Russia asks America.

America nods.

"We need to leave before the guards find us."

Russia tugs Alaska along and Canada drags America through the brush. They soon arrive at a small alcove completely hidden by overgrown plant life. America is dropped beside South Carolina. Canada sits on the other side of South Carolina and pulls him into a hug, trying to keep the teen warm.

Russia crouches in front of America, and Alaska joins her brother in a group hug.

"Can you feel this?" Russia asks, cupping his hands around America's flexing America's fingers.

America shakes his head.

"You are not 'okay'," Canada scolds. 

"Is Alaska okay?" America asks, ignoring Canada's comment.

"I'm good," Alaska says quietly.

America lets out a sigh of relief.

"Can we worry about you now?" Russia asks, sounding annoyed.

"Fine," America mumbles.

And though America knew he would never admit it, his stomach fills with butterflies as Russia starts to fuss over him.

'Stupid idiot.'

"Hey!" America whines.

"What? It's true," Russia mumbles.

America smacks him playfully, and Russia smiles softly before his worry retakes his expression.

'I really hope they aren't going to find us here.'


	15. Long Time, No See, My Dear Old Enemy

America pants in exhaustion and tries not to bite his tongue with his chattering teeth.

"We have to huddle together," Canada suggests.

"Shh!" Russia responds.

Canada scowls.

"You're right," Russia hisses, "but you have to be quiet!"

Canada rolls his eyes but complies. Russia gives one last glance to America before standing.

'Where are you going?'

'Getting something to sleep on. The ground will be too cold.'

America gives a subtle nod and sees South Carolina giving him a strange look.

America sighs and wraps his arms around himself.

'So cold.'

Russia disappears out the entrance silently, and America watches with wide eyes, waiting for him to return. Russia sneaks back in a few moments later, his arms full of dry foliage. Where he had found it, America isn't sure, but he decides not to question it.

Russia drops the dry plant matter into the back corner of the room and leaves once more. 

This happens a few times before Russia seems content with his little pile.

"What are we gonna do with that? Jump in it?" America asks between his shivers.

Russia scoffs and South Carolina giggles between his teeth.

"To sit on," Russia explains, "you'll lose less heat."

America nods and shuffles over.

'My butt is numb.'

'I eat the leaf.'

'No, that's stupid.'

'EAT LEAF.'

'No!'

America shakes his head to clear his thoughts, as intrusive as some of them are. He sits back in the leaves and debris and South Carolina and Alaska bury themselves into his sides. He tries to calm his shivering to no avail. He wraps his arms around the kids and curls around them

"We will probably be stuck here until we are able to run," Russia whispers.

America nods and leans away from the cold rock behind him. Russia moves behind him and pulls him into a hug. America sighs.

America shifts a little, bringing his injured leg closer to himself to reach. He summons his magic and places his hands just over the bloody wound. He feels a pull in his chest, a lot harsher than he is expecting. He gasps a little but doesn't stop. The magic begins to stitch his flesh back together, and the cave takes on a blue-ish hue.

'S***. I'm running low on magic. I have to rest.'

Then Russia's hands wrap around his. America jolted a little in panic.

'It's okay. I am trying to block the light.'

America nods and tries his best to concentrate on his leg. America can't help but notice that Russia's hands are bigger than his own, even if it isn't by much. Russia struggles trying to cover his magic.

'Cute.'

'He looks like a kid trying to hide a glowstick," America thinks with a small, strained smile.

His leg is still numb, and the wound is slow to close. 

The ache in his chest gets tighter and tighter. It starts getting hard to breathe, and he feels his heart speeding up. The world spins a little from his shallow breathing.

'Almost there.'

As soon as the wound closes, America releases his magic and gasps. Russia's hands tighten a little.

"What's wrong?" Russia whispers, his tone one of worry.

"Just... using too much magic..." America admits quietly, looking away.

Russia hums for a second before pulling America close. America squeaks.

"Shh," Russia shushed.

'You're cold.'

America is about to argue, but a violent shiver down his spine stops him from making any snarky remark. He leans into the hold and tries to ignore how the entire situation fills his stomach with butterflies.

He shivers, holding his states tightly. Russia wraps his arms around all three of them. America leans into Russia's chest, enjoying the warmth he could find there.

"How are you so warm now? Your body temp is normally cold, isn't it?" America whispers through shivers, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I'm built for colder temperatures," Russia whispers, "I don't lose body heat as fast."

America hums, and he feels his shivering get a little less violent. He shifts and presses back as hard as he can into Russia's chest. Russia shushes him.

America hugs South Carolina tightly. The teen shivers against him, his lips a concerning pale blue. 

"Scar," America mutters, "are you okay?"

South Carolina gives a crisp nod. America sighs softly. Looking down at Alaska, he finds that she doesn't look too uncomfortable, just a little chilly. 

'I wish I took after that.'

'It's so cold...'

'I hope Scar's gonna be okay.'

'I kinda want fries.'

'I'm gonna pretend that I'm not sitting in Russia's lap.'

'Tooo late.'

'Oh God, what if I make a fool of myself?'

'How long will we be stuck here?'

'How are we going to get out?'

America tries reaching for the link, only to find it partially blocked off. 

'Did I do that?'

'Weird'

'Wait, does that keep him from hearing my thoughts?'

'Cooooooool.'

'But we still have to get out of here. Scar and I aren't going to last very long.'

"Res?" America mumbles, trying to keep his voice low.

Russia doesn't answer.

America searches his mind and finds the link. He latches onto it and opens his side a little more. Russia's emotions become a little more clear, but he's sure he opened some kind of floodgate if Russia's startling movements are anything for him to go by.

'Res?'

Russia looks down, a little startled.

'How are we going to get out of here?'

'We will probably have to wait until someone comes to get us.'

America scowls.

'I really don't like that.'

'I don't either,' Russia admits, and America can feel his frustration, 'but it might be the only option.'

America listens carefully to their surroundings. He hears people walking around nearby, shouting about how "they couldn't have gone far."

America holds his breath.

"They'll be comin' out eventually, and I'm sure more countries are on their way here now," Confederacy announces, "let's go. Our ride is here."

A helicopter lands and America hears to how the soldiers load up. America listens to the shouting and cursing. The familiar voice makes his heart freeze. 

The voice is shrill, female, and angry. It scolds them loudly. It has a static quality, but it's clear enough for America to recognize.

Images flash past his mind's eye and he tenses up completely. 

Russia's fear contaminates his mind, and America freezes completely.

'I- no.... no... she can't be alive. I-nononononono!'

America's breathing begins to speed up.

Images of a screaming Hawaii and flames fill his mind. He finds himself running toward her while she screams into the sky. That same voice cackles from above.

America finds himself immersed completely in memory of horror. He stares at the beachside and hears shrill screaming down in the sand.

'No! HAWAII!'

He sees her form curled up in the sand, and an explosion rings out in front of him, illuminating her silhouette.

America stumbles to Hawaii's side.

Hawaii pushes him back, clutching her stomach and forcing herself to her feet.

"Why weren't you here?" she asks, blood dripping from her mouth.

"Wai, I tried-" America tries through a dry mouth.

"Well, it wasn't good enough," Hawaii snaps, fire in her eyes.

America stumbles back a step.

"This is your fault!" Hawaii yells, backhanding him, "if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have to be like this!"

Tears prick his eyes. He tries to get closer, only for Hawaii to dissolve, just out of arm's reach, a look of loathing on her face. A look that stains America's mind. 

Suddenly, America finds himself standing with his arm outstretched in a huge military boat. The seas are rough, and the waves high. Gunfire rings out around them. 

They storm the beach, and he watches his citizens fall around him.

'MAY!'

America runs through the sand to the cliff, staring up at the German soldiers.

'AMERICA!'

'Russia? What's Russia doing here?' America thinks mutely, staring around at the carnage.

"America!" Someone shouts from beside him.

America spins around and sees a disheveled and frantic-looking Russia stumbling toward him.

"This isn't real! You need to calm down! They're still here!"

America swallows and blinks. His breathing is labored, and the images slowly fade. The dark night of the storming skies and bloody sand fades into the dull rocks and dead leaves of the alcove. 

America puts his hand over his mouth and tries to quiet his breathing. He frantically looks around to find Canada and South Carolina trying to comfort a crying Alaska. South Carolina is cuddled up with Canada, and Alaska sits with them.

America's head whips around, and he finds that Russia is holding him. He can feel the worry and confusion through the link. 

'Did you see that?'

'Yes. What was that?'

'I don't want to talk about it.'

Russia hums, sending a little acknowledgment and tightening his grip.

'Is this comfortable?'

'For now... thank you.'

Russia nods.

Alaska sees him looking at her, and he offers a small smile. Alaska hops to her feet and rushes over, colliding with him. 

"Daddy," Alaska mumbles, "you're okay."

"Yeah, sorry sweetie," America replies quietly.

"Uncle Nada says England will try to come and find us," Alaska says quietly.

America sighs.

'I sure hope so.'


	16. America is Just Sitting Here to Warm Up, Nothing Else

America feels his shivering getting worse. He leans against Russia, and Russia wraps an arm around him. The outside is getting dark, America notes. He looks up and sees South Carolina shivering against Alaska and Canada. 

'At least he'll be okay.'

Russia shivers a little, and a frigid gust of wind rushes into their alcove, washing out the little heat that had lingered in the area. America's arms jerk from the cold and he gasps.

'Are you okay?'

'I'm just cold. Really cold.'

Concern leaks through the link. America appreciates it, but tried his best to push it back with the message of 'I'm okay.'

'I need to get you out of here.'

'And go where?'

'I don't know, but it's going to get colder.'

America scowls.

'I hope not.'

Russia looks away and the link falls silent.

Helicopter blades snap America out of his thoughts. He freezes until he hears familiar shouting.

"AMERICA! CANADA!" England shouts.

"HELLO?!" Scotland calls.

'They're here.'

'Can you get up?'

'I don't know. I can't feel my legs.'

Russia nods and begins to stand up. Alaska hops to her feet and walks beside him. Canada gets up and holds South Carolina close to his chest. 

South Carolina is still shivering, which America takes as a good sign.

'I hope they have heat on that helicopter.'

Russia carries him out and then waits for a moment for Alaska to catch up.

"AMERICA!" Englands distant shout rings out.

'He really is loud.'

'I am so tired.'

Russia leans over.

"Alaska, get on my back, we need to be fast," Russia says.

Alaska complies, and climbs onto him like a monkey, latching on quickly. As soon as she's securely attached, Russia takes a running step into the underbrush. Canada trails shortly after him.

Russia slows and glances behind him to make sure Canada is keeping up. 

America looks up to Russia and smiles. He admires Russia's facial features, and he reaches up with his now stiff hand to stroke Russia's cheek. He couldn't feel anything with his frozen fingers, but he wanted to try.

Russia glances down, and his eyes go wide. America notices through a fuzzy mind that Russia begins running a lot faster, cursing.

Curiously, America reaches for the link and finds anger and panic. America's face falls. He brings fuzzy memories to his mind with prettier feelings.

He picks out moods of calm and happiness and funnels the mix into the link. Russia looks down and America sees tears pool. 

'Aww... I didn't mean to make him cry.'

"'m sorry." America mumbles.

"Stay awake," Russia demands.

"mmm... okay."

America holds his eyes open. He suddenly feels so warm. So sleepy. So tired. 

'Russia says... stay awake.'

America forces his eyes back open against the brumal wind. 

'Have to... stay awake.'

'Why did I stop shivering?'

'I'm getting too cold.'

The thoughts feel numb. Diluted.

'No sleeping,' America reminds himself.

America forces his eyes open again.

'When did I close them?'

"Oh, bloody hell!" a familiar voice shouts over the wind in his ears, "is he awake?!"

America nods.

'My neck feels stiff.'

Scotland exclaims something that America doesn't understand before shuffling Alaska inside. Russia steps up into the craft, and the air around America becomes warmer. Russia sits back onto one of the seats and he shifts. He holds America against his chest, rubbing America's arms with shivering hands.

America keeps his eyes open.

He tries to ask about his kids, only to find that his mouth and tongue wouldn't cooperate. His nose scrunched up in frustration. Then Russia's worry leaks in.

'The bond.'

'Russia?'

'What? What is it? Are you still cold? Are you okay?-'

'Where's Scar? Is he okay?'

Russia sighs and laughs unbelievingly.

'You're worried about him?'

'He's my kid.'

Russia voices the question, and America spots South Carolina offering a thumbs up from a pile of blankets. America relaxes, glancing at Alaska, who is huddled up against Russia, shivering a little. 

America is wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets, some fuzzy and some heated. As his mind begins moving again, he notices Russia's shaking.

"Are you okay?" America asks slowly, struggling to get his mouth to cooperate.

Russia looks down a little startled before a small smile spreads across his face. 

Russia nods.

America shifts a little and engulfs Russia in his blankets. Russia tries to keep him wrapped up separately, but America isn't having it. America wraps his arms around Russia, and he finds himself shivering violently.

'That means I'm warming up, at least.'

America nuzzles into the warm blanket on Russia's chest, clenching his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He curls his legs up and leans over. He watches a very bundled-up Australia pull the helicopter door shut. 

A blast of heat hits his face.

His whole body shakes, and his skin begins to prick and sting. He feels more awake now, but the returning sensations cause him to wish it was still numb. 

Russia holds him tight, and pulls Alaska into the embrace. 

'I need to call Dixie at some point.'

Then he realizes the position he's in. He feels blood rush to his cheeks.

'Should I move?'

'I hope I'm not making Russia uncomfortable.'

America feels uncertain, and he begins trying to pull away. But instead of letting him, Russia just pulled him back down. America collapses again against Russia's chest, and he feels his stomach flutter.

America funnels these feelings into the link.

'If I have to get butterflies, you do too.'

Russia's face goes red, and Russia buries his face into America's hair. America smiles. Then he feels someone tug on the blankets. He turns his head and sees Alaska looking up at him with teary eyes. 

America's heart softens. 

'Aww.'

America turns, getting a little tangled, and sits sideways in Russia's lap. He opens his arms, and Alaska rushes at him. America hugs her and cradles her. She shakes for a minute before just sitting with him, gripping onto the blankets.

'Is she okay?'

'Yeah, she's just a little scared.'

Russia shifts again, and gathers both of them up in a bundle of blankets. America smiles, and rubs up against Russia, trying to get as close as he could to warmth. Bubbly feelings bloom from his chest and leak in from the link. 

America glances up and sees Russia looking away, his face red.

'You good?'

'Yes, I'm fine.'

America smirks. He glances around the room, but not moving his head. He catches England staring unabashedly at them, and America looks away. He pouts.

'It's not that weird,' America tried to convince himself.

He feels unsure. He hugs Alaska a little tighter, and tries to stop his shaking.

'Well, Russia isn't pushing me off or anything, so it's probably fine.'

'I hope...'

America ignores England's staring and Scotland's snickering. Canada doesn't say anything, which America has conflicted feelings about.

'At least I don't have to hear his teasing.'

'But I wish he would tell them to stop.'

'Oh well.'


End file.
